


The Space Between Our Hearts

by GavotteAndGigue



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Falling In Love, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor appearance from the Bat family, Peril, Pining, Protective!Jason, Science Fiction, Space Opera, cyborg!Jason, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-08-12 04:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GavotteAndGigue/pseuds/GavotteAndGigue
Summary: When Operative Dick Grayson goes missing during a mission into the Darkspace, Bruce has little choice but to enlist the notorious outlaw, smuggler, and mercenary known as the Red Hood to find his missing son and bring him home. Unbeknownst to Bruce, the Red Hood is none other than his cybernetically resurrected second son, Jason, and he has sent one lost son to find the other.For Jason, the mission is bringing up all sorts of uncomfortable feelings that he'd thought died long ago. And as Dick begins to see past his cyborg rescuer's gruff exterior, he begins to think there's something about him that's awfully familiar. Will the mission bring them both home, or will both of them be lost forever?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sevidri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevidri/gifts).

> Dear Sevidri, I took a little of all your prompts, because they were so wonderful I couldn't decide. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Rating: T or M for most of the story, E for the last chapter
> 
> Warnings: highly (very highly) unscientific, really minor one liner threat of non-con and being sold into slavery, characters come close to death, multiple times, near cardiac arrest, blood transfusions, threat of Talonization, radiation sickness, but still a happy ending.
> 
> THANK YOU to my discord vent buddy/plot wrangler/emotional crutch, [@drunkraiinbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkraiinbow/pseuds/drunkraiinbow), for all the handholding and encouragement as I wrote every single chapter. You’re amazing!
> 
> Also HUGE THANKS to [@Volavi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volavi/), who stepped up to beta this piece in a short period of time!

_ Tap. Tap. Tap. _

A gentle rapping sounded on the door of his quarters. Jason blinked open his eyes. His retinal display switched on, the tiny icons of various indicators at the edges of his vision brightened into focus.

_ Power levels, 100%_. "Acknowledged," he said, and the indicator toggled off.

_ Nanite Concentration, Optimum_. "Acknowledged." 

_ Cognitive function, 40%. _ He sighed. It was still early and he needed coffee. "Acknowledged."

_ Biologic function, 60%. _ That was less good. He looked at the time, noting he'd slept for six hours, but that didn't seem like enough to replenish the week prior where he had run on just core power. The nanites could sustain him for short periods without any biological sustenance or rest, but eventually he would become depleted, and without the nanites his biological functions would fail.

"Acknowledged." He dismissed the alerts one-by-one, clearing the feed that had built up as he slept. 

_ Tap. Tap. Tap. _ Cassandra was still rapping softly outside his door.

"Yeah, I'm coming," he called out, and rolled out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom to relieve himself.

_ Hydration low. _ The icon blinked in his peripheral vision. "Fuck. I know!" he said to the empty bathroom. "Acknowledged."

Jason washed his hands and splashed some water on his face. The cold felt good against his skin. He looked up into the mirror as he dried his face with a towel. He definitely didn't feel like he was at 60% biologic function. More like 30%. He looked like hell. His hair was a mess, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked sallow and pale. He probably needed at least a few days downtime to give the nanites time to rebuild his biologics.

He sighed at his reflection. He'd have to make do for now. Cass wanted something, and while it wasn't an emergency (she would have barged right in if it were), she wouldn't have woken him if she didn't think it was important. He finger combed his bed head into something moderately sensible, donned the first set of clean clothes he could find and stepped out of his room.

He found Cass sitting in the small bridge of their docked ship, watching an incoming message on one of the monitors. Someone was speaking through an electronic voice, and as Jason approached he could see an eerie green face on the screen.

"I know you're there listening, whoever you are," the voice was somewhat feminine despite the distortion. "This message is for the Red Hood. There is an urgent issue for which we wish to discuss the engagement of your services. Your presence is requested at these coordinates."

Jason recognized that green face. It was the symbol of the infamous Oracle, and by extension he knew who the person behind it was—Barbara Gordon. Babs. Someone he hadn't let himself think about for a long time. 

For a moment he froze, before the 40% of his working cognitive function caught up to remind him that Oracle had asked for the Red Hood, not _ Jason Todd_. For all she, Bruce and the others knew, Jason Todd was still dead, just like he wanted them to think. There was no reason to panic. Even so, his heart had started involuntarily racing before the nanites kicked in to forcibly crank it down to homeostasis. There were some advantages to being a cybernetic.

Except that didn't protect him from Cass' observation. She was immediately up and in his face, putting her hands on either cheek to hold him still, staring at him in concern. Sometimes the way she looked at him… as if she was staring into an infinitely interesting new quasar…. Jason hated that kind of scrutiny. He had no idea what she saw, but reading the human body had been her first language amidst the fucked up social experiment her douchebag of a dad had put her through. 

He'd figured out that much the first time she'd synced her neural network to his nanites. She had the network implanted into her brain too early and it had ruined the proper development of her language centers—a good reason why such experiments and childhood cybernetic integration was universally banned across the League of Stations. Still, Jason had managed to sync a dictionary into her memory banks with his nanites, but it often took her awhile to sort through to find the right words.

_ You. Scared. _ Her words blinked along the lower line of his vision. _ Why? _

She looked at him, her dark eyes a little wide with surprise, though she patiently waited for a response.

"I'm not scared," he replied. "My nanites just aren't back at full operation after I got blasted by those LexCorp battle droids last week." They had been the latest in a long line of deadly automatons Luthor had cooked up to protect his supply transports from smugglers like the Red Hood. Jason hadn't been expecting them to be equipped with vorpal blasters and they had nearly fried him. It was almost as if Luthor had designed them especially for him, but Jason wasn't so pompous to actually believe that to be true. Thankfully, Cass had been raised and trained by battle droids. She took out the whole squadron without breaking a sweat.

_ Lying_. Cass sent the word back at him. _ Nanites optimum. _

Damn. She really could read him like a book, if nothing else. "Fine. I'm lying, but believe me, we don't want to take this mission."

_ They are bad? _ Cass waved at the Oracle symbol, replaying on the monitor screen.

"No, not exactly." Jason didn't really want to lie about that. Bruce wasn't bad, per se… he was just… he didn't know how to explain it to Cass. "They're not bad, but they still hurt people," Jason managed finally.

_ Hurt you? _ Cass gestured toward him.

"No." Jason shook his head and stepped away. Maybe if he made them something to eat Cass would drop it.

_ Why lying? _ Her words blinked through his comm channel even though he had turned his back.

"I'm not lying. I'm not hurt. I _ can't _ be hurt. I'm not exactly human anymore, so you're not reading me right."

_ Lying. _ And then swifter than a ghost, she was suddenly standing in front of him. _ Human? _ She touched her hand over her heart.

"Of course, Cass!" Jason frowned, and then took her hand and squeezed it. "Of course you're human, don't ever think you're not!"

_ Human_. She moved her hand now over Jason's heart. 

His heart started thundering in his chest again, though he didn't quite know why. The nanites in his core must have been malfunctioning, because this time he couldn't get it back under control.

"I… I need to go out and resupply the ship," he stammered out, suddenly feeling like the confines of their small ship was too suffocating.

He hurriedly donned his brown planetary-hide jacket, switched on his optical distortion field to hide his face from cameras, and stepped out of the ship onto the catwalk into the station.

* * *

Even in the endless void of deep space, Gotham Station was known for its harsh beauty in the hours of the artificial dark of the night. The Chrono-circadian Committee had decided long ago that Gotham's daylight hours would be shorter than most other League Stations to save energy during the Divestiture War. The ever adaptive citizens had simply gotten used to it, and eventually they grew to embrace that as part of the uniqueness of Gotham. 

The long nights were punctuated by the soft glowing lumens that lined the criss-cross of archaic styled arches, gangways, and pavilions. The vaulted bridgeways meant that even in the brightness of the circadian day, there were always shadows casting a dark line across the multi-gravitational footpaths. These were the celebrated mainstays of Gotham Station architecture, so much that efforts to standardize the circadian cycle with the rest of the stations had been resisted. The vaulted architecture lent the station a sort of anachronistic feel, despite the station being perhaps the most technologically advanced out of the League Stations. 

Even after everything, Jason was still drawn here. He loved Gotham. It brought him some level of comfort to walk the multi-gravs down into the narrow allies of the lower levels. This was where he grew up, in the crowded tenancies Gothamites had dubbed Crime Alley. Corporate Security had never been able to root out the rougher crowds that had settled into the cracks here, but it wasn't all bad. If you looked up from the lower levels, you could see the splendor of upper Gotham—the twinkling lights amidst the glittering glass of corporate towers, the flowing cascade of water fountains, the haze of mist and fog that drifted out from the weather machines—all curving upward along the arc of the outer levels of the station.

A lot of the incoming station immigrants also found their settlements here, the cheaper rooms and the melting pot of station and planetary cultures was familiar and reassuring. Jason knew his way around, and even though nowadays he felt it hard to claim himself fully a person, he knew the people here. It was still home. 

Jason made his way to the underside of the tram tracks, where tucked into the gap between the bridge posts was a small watering hole he had frequented in the past. He ducked into the door, sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. 

Planetary beer was expensive on a station, but Jason himself had smuggled a container of the stuff in not more than a few weeks ago. The bartender didn't recognize him of course, not without his signature red helmet, but they were still generous with the tap. Jason took a swig, the cold brew hit his gut quickly, and he relaxed into the feeling 

_ Foreign toxin warning_. The alert blinked up at the edge of his retinal display. 

"Retinal display off. Toxin filtration off, two hours," Jason mumbled under his breath. "Emergency alerts only."

The alert disappeared. Nanite integration sucked. They kept him alive, but sometimes that was the problem. Talia hadn't asked before she dipped him into a vat of Lazarus tech. If she had, he would have said no. He would have preferred dead to the interstitial existence of being both man and machine.

At the very least, over the years he had figured out the system overrides, and now that the alerts were off, he settled into listening to the idle conversation that drifted across the small bar.

"You seen the kids under the Parkway lately?" someone was saying.

"Naw. I looked yesterday, couldn't get the hookup 'cause they cleared off."

"Yeah. Gal near the Narrows' gone too. Nobody's under the boardwalk anymore neither. Kids're fucking disappearing. Maybe the CorpSec nabbed 'em."

Huh. That didn't sound right, Jason thought. CorpSec usually didn't bother policing the small time kids dealing under the bridges. They roughed them up sometimes, but rarely did they ever outright arrest them. There just wasn't room in the station brigs to house a revolving population of vagrants, let alone protect and place the minors. It was one of the reasons he had thrown his hat in with Batman back in the day. He had believed Bruce. He had believed that they could make a difference for these kids, because Jason had been one of them himself. He had thought that Bruce had cared when no one else had bothered…..

His chest felt constricted suddenly. His throat seemed to close up and his pulse was up again. Damn the nanites. They did a piss poor job of regulating his amygdalic responses. If only the Joker had blown away his limbic system too. Then he could have had a fusion core in his brain instead of his two arms and heart.

Jason downed the rest of his beer. Hopefully the alcohol would dull the most useless part of him that was still human. He transferred a few credits to the bar and got up to leave.

He'd have to look into the missing kids later. He hadn't exactly been lying when he had told Cass he needed to resupply their ship. He was planning on hitting the Lexcorp caravans coming through from planetary in the next few weeks. They would need to stock up on weapons as well as food. Real food. Cass had grown up eating only rations and intravenous infusions. He wanted to give her the opportunity to eat real meals as often as possible.

It would also be a sort of apology for running out on her earlier. He felt bad about that, but sometimes he couldn't control his reactions. At least it hadn't been one of his Lazarus rages, though Cass did a pretty good job of subduing him when those happened. Still, Cass was the closest thing he could call a friend, if such a thing were possible for him.

He let out a sigh. He had a lot of stops to make in the next few hours. Might as well get started. Jason stepped out of the bar and onto the multi-gravs to make his way back into the Gotham night. 

* * *

Jason didn't make it back to the ship until the next morning. After traipsing across the multi-levels of Gotham Station to find each black market fence and distributor, and after all the haggling and posturing and threatening required to finalize a deal, he was able to place all the orders for munitions, energy cores, and med-surg packs (Cass had used the last of their supply on Jason after the vorpal blasts) needed to survive in deep space for at least a month. It was early morning by the time he was done, and then he had to wait a couple more hours for the food market stalls to open. It was the only place to get the flash frozen goods he needed to cook Cass and himself proper meals.

By the time he made it back to their ship, he'd been gone nearly a full circadian day. Guiltily, he had picked up a planetary dinner of mixed curry. Hopefully Cass wouldn't be too angry with him.

"Cass?" he called out as he entered the ship. There was no response, which wasn't unusual given that she couldn't speak, but the ship was unusually silent. Cass often like to watch old-world culture vids of ballet and other forms of dancing. There was often music playing aloud during their downtime when they weren't running from InterSec Space Officers or other various security they had stolen from. 

Jason peaked into the common areas, and then through the open door of her quarters, but found them empty. Finally he made his way onto the bridge. One of the monitors was on, and a pit started to form in his artificial gut as he called up the screen.

It was that damned message from Oracle. Cass had been watching it again, the last timestamp had not been an hour after Jason had left the day before. He tapped a few commands with a feeling of dread, only to have his fears confirmed. Cass had downloaded the coordinates Oracle had sent. She had gone to meet the Bats.

Jason cursed himself. He should have known Cass would get curious. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t tell her a whole lot about himself, plus she tended to be a little protective. Cass must have left soon after she had downloaded the coordinates, which was almost a day ago, but she hadn’t come back. He knew Cass could handle herself, and he knew the Bats wouldn’t actually kill her, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t be harmed in some other way, or that they would find some way to detain her.

He did his best to rein in his concern and his once again rapidly beating heart as he went to suit up, grabbing the small metal card that unfolded and expanded out into his Red Hood helmet. He donned it and shrugged into his armor, trying not to let the worry overcome him as he plugged in the coordinates to track her down.

He followed his nav to the mid-levels of the station, into a sector of the station most often used as research facilities. Jason scanned the surroundings. It was late evening now, and the business crowds had died down and gone home. From what Jason could tell, the facility was mostly deserted. He knew Bruce though. He knew Babs from before she was Oracle. There was no way they’d put the coordinates out to the Red Hood without fully securing the area. He’d have to tread carefully.

Fortunately, he had been raised as a Bat, and he knew most of the tricks they used frequently. He had ready a few counter-measures his nanites could enact to distort the readings on the sensors they had likely employed. Jason switched his defenses fully on, armed up the low-power phasers he kept at his belt, stepped out of the shadows and kicked down the front door.

Alarms were immediately blaring. Red flashing lights in short bursts that illuminated the darkness of the interior. It was meant to be disorienting, and for most non-cybernetic entities it would be, but Jason simply switched to infrared. 

“Where is my partner?” His modulated voice echoed in the empty building, but he knew full well that the Bats could hear him. “Let her go, before I take down this whole fucking platform!”

There were heat signatures at the edges of his vision, and he turned as a caped figure whirled down from the high ceiling above.

Jason recognized the figure immediately. A full cowl covering his head, but not exactly Batman. He was smaller, slight, and wielded a full-length energy powered bow staff. Bruce’s spec ops officer codenamed Red Robin—civilian identity Tim Drake—Jason’s replacement after he had been offed by the Joker and the boy he had planned to murder once upon a time. He’d gotten distracted from that bout of revenge after he met Cass, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still harbor a certain kind of rage toward the other. An overpowering anger suddenly bloomed inside him, and the nanites were suddenly reacting, interpreting the anger as a threat and engaging the Lazarus protocols. The programming took over, and Jason holstered the phasers and instead armed his fusion blasters, upping the output levels as he aimed and fired.

Red Robin deftly flipped out of the way, but the explosions rocked the entire sector platform attached to the station hull. The residual plasma melted whatever was left after the impact. Jason fired off another blast at Red Robin, but again he quickly dodged out of the way, and the red flare of fury obliterated any rational thought. A small voice in the back of Jason’s mind told him he was overdoing it, that using a fusion blaster at these levels inside a station threatened the stability of the entire structure, but the Lazarus rage had taken over, and he was ill equipped to stop it.

“He’s using fusion blasters. I need backup,” Red Robin managed to gasp into his comm. “We need to stop him before he destroys the whole sector!”

Another figure whirled out of the darkness, wearing a familiar set of pointed ears, a billowing cape, and a bat symbol emblazoned across her chest. Batgirl. But not the one Jason had known in the past, if the waves of blond hair coming out from the back of her cowl was any indication. She was slower than he expected, but her movements were solid, her attacks firm and direct, and despite his battle AI in full operation, he couldn’t completely predict her movements. She managed to land a solid kick before he could recharge his blaster, and then a third figure was suddenly tackling him to the floor. 

There was a quick jab at his spine, a weak point that directly affected his neural arrays. It sent his optics on the fritz, leaving him momentarily stunned. The action was quickly followed up with an electrical current to the insides of his elbows. It effectively shorted the fusion blasters that were permanently embedded in his arms, rendering him temporarily unable to access his primary offensive weapons.

There was only one person who could take him down that fast—Cass.

The blackness that had momentarily blinded him cleared, and he blinked his eyes until he was looking up into her worried eyes. “Cass?” he managed to choke out. “What… what’s going on?”

The Lazarus rage was clearing as well, his executive function returning as the nanites receded from control. 

Shit. Oh shit. 

He had nearly taken out an entire sector because he couldn’t control his anger. Thankfully Cass had been there to stop him, but then another round of worrying thoughts came to mind. What was she doing there? Was she under mind control? Had they convinced her to work against him? His thoughts spiraled, until Cass pressed her hand against his chest.

_ Okay? _ The word blinked into his retinal display through her neural network.

“I’m fine.” Jason pushed himself up, and Cass stood up with him. He put his hands on her shoulders, peering down at her through his helmet. “What are you doing here? Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head._ Need you. Mission. Important. _

“I told you, no. Whatever they need, they can find someone else.” Jason took her hand and attempted to pull her away, but she resisted.

_ Dick Grayson. _ The name blinked across his vision, and Jason couldn’t stop himself from pausing. He hadn’t let himself think that name in a long time. The shock of it only lasted a second however, and he was able to regather himself. “No.”

Cass narrowed her eyes. There was no way she had missed his reaction, because she repeated the name. _Dick Grayson. Find. Mission._ _People dying._

The words came in rapid fire, but Jason tried to ignore it. He stepped away, noticing the silent observation of Red Robin and Batgirl. They were looking at them curiously, but didn’t interfere. He wasn’t sure what they had done to influence Cass, but he needed to get them both away from here until he could figure this out. Jason took Cass’ hand again, turning toward the exit with the intention of leading her away from the facility, but then to his surprise, she spoke.

“Wait,” she said. Her voice was raspy and quiet, but he heard her clearly. “Help. People. Missing.”

It wasn’t what she said that had Jason’s jaw nearly hitting the floor (thank goodness he was still wearing his helmet), it was the fact that she had spoken at all. She had never done so before now. 

“How?” he finally managed to say after he had worked through his shock. “You’re talking now, but how?”

“They,” she pointed at where Batgirl stood. _ Stephanie. Barbara_, she switched back to her neural comms. _ Help me talk. Fix me. _

"Fix you?" Jason said, confused.

"We helped her forge new neural pathways in the language centers of her brain," a new voice interjected, and it took everything in Jason not to flinch, because he recognized that voice. It was a voice he had once fixated on for revenge when the side effects of the Lazarus tech was still in full effect. He was the man Jason had once looked to as a father, and then someone he reviled for his ultimate betrayal. None other than Bruce Wayne, the man behind the intra-station spec ops. The man who secretly masqueraded as Batman.

He stepped out from behind a hidden panel, his black cape hiding the tech and specialized armor he wore, along with the black and yellow symbol that spread across his chest. Jason unconsciously found himself backing away, still somehow intimidated by everything the Batman represented all these years later.

Cassandra had been watching Jason intently, and she must have seen something in his body language that was suddenly alarming. She looked back and forth between them, and then was suddenly crowding into him, squeezing back the hand that he was still holding.

_ Sorry. Sorry. Hurt you. Sorry. _ She was apologizing, and it took another few seconds for Jason's brain to catch up as to why. She had deduced from his reaction that Bruce was the reason Jason was nearly having a meltdown. She thought Bruce was the one who had hurt him.

"I just wanted… fix me," she voiced. She sounded anguished, her eyes looked wet and red.

"We're willing to make an offer," Batman said. "We can help her build her ability to speak, in return we need someone who knows how to navigate the Darkspace to find a missing officer."

Jason ground his teeth. "And if I refuse? You'll try and keep her hostage here?"

"No," this time it was the new Batgirl. She stepped up and put her hand on Cass' shoulder, giving her what Jason thought was a genuinely warm smile. "We're still going to help her talk, if that's what she wants. She's free to go too if that's what she chooses. You on the other hand, are a known criminal. If you're not going to help us, we're going to take you in."

_ Not bad people. _ Cass was relaying again. _ I know. Trust. Sorry hurt. Help missing people. Dick Grayson. Grief. _

It was the most she had ever said to him at any given time. Whatever she'd found out about the disappearance of Dick, whatever the new Batgirl or Bruce or Barbara or his replacement had told her in the short time that she'd spent with them, she was convinced that Jason should help them. And if the Bats could help Cassandra find the ability to speak, could he really deny her that? Could he really say no, because he was still spiteful and full of anger?

"We did our research on you," the new Batgirl was talking again. "You're one of the few smugglers who regularly makes it in and out of the Darkspace. Most everyone else who tries never makes it out. We also know you've been helping victims of illegal experiments out of Lexcorp and into Gotham Station and its territories, and you've been funneling stolen supplies to the Wasteland refugees. We know you're not the stone cold mercenary your reputation makes you out to be. Cass here is testament to that." She gave Cass' shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"We've lost one of our own." Now even the stupid Replacement was appealing. "You're the only one who can help us get Nightwing back."

"We can help Cassandra, and if you're successful, we'll grant you amnesty, as long as you leave Gotham Station," Bruce added.

Jason snorted disdainfully. They had no idea what kind of bitter pill they had offered. Bruce hadn't gone nearly so far when Jason was murdered. He'd spared his killer, the Joker, and had done nothing to avenge him, but of course he would pull out all the stops for Dick, the golden child that Jason had never lived up to. Bruce was even going so far as to offer a known smuggler and killer amnesty for the return of his favorite son.

Jason hadn't known Dick all that well, but he'd never hated him either. In so many ways it had been quite the opposite, but Jason refused to think about the embarrassment of his early teenage years. That boy was dead and gone anyway. He was more machine than anything now. And yet... was his humanity so completely gone that he'd forsake someone in need simply out of spite?

_ Human_. Cass' uncanny ability to read him was unnerving. "Save… him," she voiced. _ You can. You want to. _

He knew he was going to regret this, but she'd never forgive him if he said no.

Jason turned back to Batman. "Fine. I'll find your lost idiot and bring them back. In return you'll do what you can for Cass. I get amnesty, I leave this shithole, and five billion credits."

There was a tightening around the corners of Bruce's mouth, reshaping the downturn of his mouth from a frown into a sneer. "Done. Red Robin will brief you on the mission."

Batman turned back to walk through the hidden panel he had come through, indicating Jason should follow. Cass was already up ahead with Batgirl and the Replacement, and Jason had little choice but to follow suit.


	2. Chapter 2

Dick focused on his breathing, a slow breath in, a slow breath out. He had to make sure he didn’t make too much noise, and that he didn’t exert or strain himself in a way that would cause him to hyperventilate. The air was too thin aboard the _Strigiformes,_ the trafficking ship he was on, a fact that he hadn’t realized before sneaking aboard. He learned the hard way that there were good reasons why very few people made it in and out of the Darkspace, one of those being that it was highly prohibitive to life. That was why the entirety of the crew was either fully cybernetic or android, which meant life support functions were minimal in the resource-scarce vastness of this sector of space.

The region was aptly called the Darkspace because the almost opaque interstellar gas and dust literally prevented any light from breaking through. Visuals were pitch black, and the unpredictable electrical storms that thundered across the gases disrupted almost all forms of communications and navigation. 

Dick had followed the larger ship to the edge of the Darkspace nearly a month ago, trying to get a lock on where the kidnapped children from Gotham Station had been taken. He’d gathered enough intel to know that the _ Strigiformes _ had used the Darkspace to conceal their tracks, but not the final destination of the missing children. It had been a big risk to follow the ship into the uncharted region, but nearly thirty children’s lives were at stake. 

He’d sent a beacon back to Gotham Station before he went in. That would at least alert Batman to his location, and perhaps serve as an anchor to find his way back.

No such luck. Once he’d entered the cloud of charged gas, his ship’s comms and navigation had completely shorted. He’d barely managed to keep apace with the larger ship, thanks to the short range tracker that still functioned if he stayed in close proximity, but his small stealth fighter wasn’t designed for extended interstellar travel, and within days, the charged gas clouds somehow drained his ships fuel dry, and Dick was quickly low on supplies. He was even running out of oxygen, with the ship's filtration failing to keep up with the buildup of carbon dioxide. His only chance of making it out and finding the children was to secretly board the larger _ Strigiformes_. 

He’d spared a few moments to think back to his family back on Gotham Station. Dick hadn’t intended for his deep cover mission to last quite this long. He wondered if Bruce was concerned. They’d disagreed at their last check-in, Bruce hadn’t wanted him to leave Gotham Station alone, but he hadn’t outright told him not to go. Dick had every intention of making it back… but he couldn’t help but remember what had happened the last time someone didn’t return. Bruce had never been quite the same after losing Jason. Neither was Dick for that matter. None of them really fully recovered from that sort of loss, and that was so long ago. He hoped that at the very least Tim and Barbara would be able to decipher his location. He hoped Damian wouldn’t worry, and that he’d stay safe, far far away from the Darkspace. 

It had been easier than he’d anticipated getting aboard the ship, probably due to the fact that the crew didn’t expect anyone to have been foolish enough to follow them into such a life-prohibitive sector of space. Dick had been hiding out in the vents for the past five days, trying to gather intel on the missing children while scavenging for supplies. He’d managed to locate the storage areas where they kept some energy cores, but he needed to figure out how to hack the system logs for their last cargo drop if he was going to find the children.

That part was harder. His wearable tech was already running low on power given he was going on two months into his mission. It wouldn’t last, and probably didn’t have enough juice to launch a sophisticated subroutine to hack the ships logs. Best he could do was try and intercept the regular system backups, which was what he was now doing, hunkered down above the systems alcove, trying to tap a line into the mainframe.

The indicator on his wrist subtly vibrated, indicating the intercept had been successful, and Dick tapped a few keys to bring up the display, quickly scrolling through to see if he could glean anything from logs. He didn’t have to go far, the last stop was just three months ago, which lined up with the timeframe he had deduced of when the missing children had been taken off station. He was shocked, however, when he saw their final destination. Haly’s—the planetoid colony on which he was born.

It made a sort of sense. The colony on Haly’s was transient, with roaming tribes constantly coming and going. Many of them had historically been performers and entertainers, hopping from colony to colony and station to station. If there was anywhere where a large cadre of children could land and disappear without much question, it was Haly’s, but that didn’t dampen the disappointment he felt. Gotham Station had long become his home since Bruce adopted him after his parents' deaths, but Haly’s still held a special place in his heart. If it was being used as a hub for illegal trafficking or experimentation, he had to stop it somehow.

With renewed fervor, Dick hurriedly disconnected from the mainframe and twisted around in the vents. He had to grab an energy core and get out of the ship as quickly as he could. He needed to get word back to Bruce back in Gotham Station, to send an investigative team out to Haly’s as soon as possible. The children had already been missing for months, there couldn’t be any more delays.

He crawled back over to the supply room, dropping silently behind the large crates and removed an energy core. He’d only be able to carry one of the fifty pound cores on his back, but it should give him enough power to get out of the darkspace. 

Dick was heading back toward the vacuum-sealed cut in the hull where he had docked his ship, when the overhead lights began blinking red. Crap. He must have set off some kind of internal alarm.

“What do we have here?” A metallic voice suddenly sounded behind him, and Dick turned to find a large phaser pointed directly at him. The man holding it was largely cybernetic, his arms and torso a cobbled together mass of metal plates, tubing and wires. Dick could see the mechanical gears and currents running through him. There wasn’t much left of him that was organic, or human for that matter, which meant he could be all the more deadly.

Dick dodged the first blast, momentarily abandoning the core on his back in order to roll forward. He launched into a double kick upward, knocking the phaser from the cyborg’s grasp and jamming his fists into the core of his torso. He grabbed the first cable he could reach, and yanked as hard as he could. The cyborg howled, but then there was a shock of electricity, and Dick was thrown back. 

He scrambled up, struggling for breath and panting to get enough oxygen in the thin air of the ship, but failing.

The cyborg approached again, laughing. “I activated the airlock vacuum. That’s the thing with you organics—can’t survive out here in the Dark without air, can you?”

He reached down and grabbed Dick by the throat, throttling him against the nearest wall. Dick flailed, but he couldn’t get enough strength behind his movements. Without oxygen he was slowly asphyxiating, each painful gasp sent a burning all through his lungs.

“Stowaway.” The cyborg had been joined by others of his like. They gathered around him, a motley of glowing machine eyes, half human faces, and fully robotic bodies and appendages. That level of cybernetic integration was illegal on the League Stations without disability dispensations. This was clearly a crew that had traded their humanity for the advantages of tech. 

“Doesn’t look like CorpSec,” one of them said. “Not the standard uniform and armour. Maybe one of those Bat Ops kids.”

“He’s pretty,” said another. “Could sell him to the flesh markets. A good half mil for that face. Good body too.” A hand suddenly groped him, squeezing his buttocks and then reaching between his legs. Dick couldn’t help but cringe, trying to twist and bringing his legs up to kick away. It was to no avail however. Without oxygen, his body was rapidly failing. Dark spots were creeping into his vision. He was starting to black out.

“No. We got a contract with the Court. We can get more if he’s _ project _ material. Check him for compatibility,” said a voice, but Dick couldn’t place who or what was speaking anymore. 

Something pricked his neck above the collar of his suit, and then, “He’s good. Administer the electrum. If he survives, pod him. If not, jettison him.”

The last thing he remembered was being lifted and carried into a different space. There was a tearing sound, the material of his suit was being ripped away, and there was a sting at the inside of his elbow. Something cold ran through his veins, and then he knew no more.

* * *

Dick drifted in and out… his vision was blurred. Sometimes he saw floating lights above him. Sometimes it was dark, but he always felt cold. Freezing.

“He’s taking the serum well. Give him another dose of electrum.”

Another flood of cold and Dick wanted to scream. The pain was excruciating. It felt like tiny icicles were forming in his veins. He wanted to sob, he wanted to break free, but he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe.

“Good. In another week he’ll be ready for the vat.”

The words were foreboding, but Dick could do nothing as he once again succumbed to unconsciousness.

* * *

The next time he managed to surface, he was being lifted again. He tried to turn, but everything felt stiff. His limbs felt foreign, almost mechanical, but when he looked down his body seemed fully intact, though his skin looked an odd shade of gray.

There was a sound of liquid sloshing from somewhere, and then he heard, “Lower him into the vat.”

He blinked blearily and saw the room he was in was lined with cylinders filled with blue liquid. Some had bodies in them, floating lifelessly, skin that odd gray color again, eyes open and blank. Dick knew somehow, that if he let them put him in one of those vats, he was never coming back out alive. 

He couldn’t let that happen. He was on some sort of flat bed, and he could feel whatever bindings that had previously kept him down had been loosened, probably in preparation of moving him into the cylinder. Dick summoned the last of whatever strength was still left in his body and twisted off and onto the floor.

“Hey!” There was a shout, and then the thunk of heavy footsteps. Dick was hauled upward, all the while kicking and punching and fighting for all he was worth, but the cyborg that had him was too strong. He was being dragged up a ramp and toward the top of one of the vats. He was lifted… the cyborg was about to drop him in, when suddenly the vat shattered in an explosion of glass and liquid.

There were more explosions, the loud whir and roar of phaser blasts, and Dick was suddenly being hauled upright. He could feel the press of metal plates and cable against his back. That jerk of a cyborg that was holding him was attempting to use him as a shield.

“Drop the _ organic_, you bucket of bolts!” A deep modulated voice pierced through the chaos, and Dick saw a figure emerge from outside the doorway to the room. It looked to be a man, dressed in heavy armour, wearing a bright red helmet atop his head. “One move and I’ll– oh fuck it.” 

Dick felt the heat of a phaser blast graze his ear, and then suddenly he was falling. He managed to catch himself with his hands before he hit the ground face first. When he turned to look behind him, the cyborg who’d manhandled him was literally a pile of molten metal, pooling in plasma residue on the floor.

Crap. That was no phaser blast. A melt like that required a certain kind of heat, usually from a fusion bolt, but to hit with that kind of precision—grazing Dick just mere phase shifts from his head—that was damn near impossible.

He looked up as the man in the red helmet approached. Sure enough, Dick could see the telltale red-glow of a fusion core, except instead of the normal heavy-weight, shoulder-fired launcher he was expecting, the man had the cores built directly into both his arms. The man seemed to notice Dick staring, and he abruptly retracted the weapons, the red-glow of the cores folding down seamlessly under the armor of his forearms.

That in itself should have been impossible. Fusion blasters were bulky and difficult to carry. Even the most advanced androids Dick had seen in WayneCorp’s R&D couldn’t create such a slim-line fully integrated weapon, and yet the man standing before him was of normal human proportions. Besides the bulk of the armor, he was only a little larger than Dick himself. Perhaps Bruce’s size, even a little slimmer. Was he some kind of new android tech or a cyborg? However, full integration like that was not only illegal, but decades beyond what any League Station could produce.

Dick struggled to rock back onto his haunches, only now realizing that he was completely nude. He brought his knees up in a feeble effort to cover himself, and then in a voice that cracked from disuse, managed to utter, “Who… who are you?”

The red helmeted man crouched beside him, and Dick had the impression that he was trying to be somewhat non-threatening. His speech however, still came off as rather abrasive. “Holy shit. What the fuck happened to you?”

“What?” Dick was slightly taken aback at the bluntness, but as he looked down at himself again, he noticed the sickly gray color of his skin. He felt cold and sick, and now that the shock of everything was wearing off, he felt a little faint too.

The man disappeared for a second, and Dick tried to track his movements, but the ship seemed to spin around him, and the next thing he knew, a cloth was being draped around his shoulders.

“Can you stand up?” the man said.

“Yeah,” Dick nodded as the man hooked a hand under his arm and practically lifted him up. “Who are you?”

The man didn’t move for several long seconds, and Dick wasn’t sure what to make of the hesitancy, but then the man answered, “I’m the Red Hood, and I’ve been sent by Batman to save your sorry ass.”

* * *

Dick must have fallen unconscious soon after, because he didn’t remember how he got off the _ Strigiformes_. It felt like someone had pushed the flash forward button on his brain, and the next moment he was lying inside a med-surg pod, hooked up to all sorts of wires and tubes and IVs, and the man—he had called himself the Red Hood—was standing outside of the clear glass, jabbing and cursing angrily at the control panel.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. I did not sign up for this shit!”

Dick didn’t know of any AI language protocols that talked _ like that_. Definitely not an android. Cyborg then. Dick shifted in the pod. He still felt alarmingly cold, and he wanted out of the pod. It felt too much like the vat that the other cyborgs had attempted to drop him in. He lifted his hand, intending to hit the release switch on the pod to climb out, but the man immediately turned his head to him. “Don’t you fucking move! I swear to high-fucking-heliocentric-hell I’ll strap you down if I have to.”

He should have felt threatened. He should have been wary of the stranger who had locked him into a pod, but there was something about the man’s speech that Dick found hilariously amusing. It clicked that maybe he was a little delirious from whatever the crew on _ Strigiformes _ had done to him. He couldn’t see the Red Hood’s face, he was still wearing that bright red helmet, but his high strung cursing reminded him of someone he once knew. 

Jason. 

He sounded like Jason used to when he was angry, and thinking about the dead boy made Dick suddenly feel sad.

A loud thumping noise started roaring in his ears. It started out fast, and then it began to slow. It almost sounded like a heartbeat. Slower and slower…. In his daze, Dick thought that maybe it was soon going to stop altogether.

“No. Nonono. Don’t you dare, Dickface!” The Red Hood sounded panicked. He was jabbing at the controls again. “I didn’t come all the way to the ass-end of deep space to bring back your fucking corpse!”

He disappeared out of Dick’s view and returned minutes later with what looked like a field transfusion kit. He hurriedly arranged the tubing, plugging it this way and that into the med-surg pod, but instead of hooking it up to a blood bag, the Red Hood started rolling up his own sleeve. He wasn’t wearing his armor anymore, just a plain gray form-fitting shirt that seemed to hug the curves of his muscled torso. Dick thought he must definitely have been hallucinating, because there was no way a cyborg with fusion blasters built into his arms could look that good. He didn’t look like a cyborg at all, really. There was none of the usual cables and wires and metal plates and mechanical gears one would normally expect. He just looked human. Even the way his pants hugged his hips and thighs looked good.

Yeah, Dick thought. He was definitely out of it if he was checking out the cyborg trying to save his life.

The Red Hood finally fixed his sleeve and briefly tied a tourniquet, then he was plugging the needle at the end of the tubing into his arm. “Antigen match. Toxin filtration, one hundred percent,” he said aloud, though Dick didn’t think he was talking to anyone in particular.

A flood of warmth suddenly flowed through him from the IV line of the med-surg pod. Dick watched the Red Hood use his foot to drag over a nearby chair. He sat down heavily and watched Dick intently through the glass. Dick looked back at him, wishing he could see the man’s face through the red helmet. He wasn’t sure why, but he tried to smile reassuringly, and then raised his hand to press his palm up against the curve of the pod glass. He watched the dark red of the blood flow through the IV line. After a moment, the Red Hood tentatively pressed his own palm against the glass. Dick stared at the imprint that mirrored his own. He stared up at the skin of the Red Hood’s exposed forearm, all the way up to where the butterfly needle was still plugged into his vein.

_ He looks human_, Dick thought once more. Had he dreamed up the fusion blasters?

He wanted to ask, but his eyes drifted closed again, but this time, he felt warm and safe.

* * *

When he finally woke again, he was fully conscious and alert, but still plugged inside the med-surg pod. The Red Hood was almost comically draped over the top of the glass, unmoving. He couldn’t be certain, given the man was still wearing his red helmet with the unblinking white eyes, but Dick was pretty sure he was asleep.

Dick raised his hands to his face, noting the unsightly gray cast to his skin was now gone, and began pulling out the IV lines. He raised a hand, knocking on the glass gently right below the Red Hood’s head, and the man shot up out of his chair.

Dick stifled his laughter as the man regained his composure to stare back down at him, clearly unamused.

“I take it you’re feeling better,” he said. His voice still sounded hollow and synthetic through the modulator, but he was shifting his weight almost unconsciously, as if he was nervous or wary of something.

“Yeah,” Dick nodded, and now that the man had righted himself off of the pod, he hit the release and pushed himself into a sitting position. He looked down at himself again, noting there was still a heated flush running through him. It felt… good, but a little odd. He made to get out of the pod, but then realized he was nude under the thin sheet tucked around him. 

“Um…,” he was pretty sure the Red Hood had already seen his full of Dick's body at this point, after all Dick was already stripped when the Red Hood found him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to walk around naked in front of a total stranger.

“Oh. _ Oh_. Hang on,” the Red Hood seemed embarrassed, judging by the way he quickly turned his back and then steadfastly marched out of the med bay. He came back in short order holding a bundle of clothes, which he handed to Dick without looking at him. 

That was… unexpectedly bashful for someone who had precision-aimed a fusion blaster at another cyborg and literally melted him into the floor. Dick wasn’t ungrateful for being saved, but he had to remind himself that he was in the presence of a killer. Now that he was clear-headed, he could also remember that he had seen briefings in the past on the Red Hood—a suspected smuggler and mercenary, known for his ruthless executions of those who impugned on his territory. The image didn't quite fit with the man that stood before him, but Dick would have to remember to stay alert.

Dick took the clothing, a plain long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweats that hung a little loose on him. It was slightly unnerving to think that he was probably wearing the Red Hood’s clothes. 

“What happened?” Dick asked, when he was dressed and the Red Hood turned to look back at him. "You said Batman sent you. Where are the others?"

It would have been impractical to expect Bruce to come out himself, not with League business his constant priority, but Dick had expected that Tim, or maybe even Steph would be the ones deployed to retrieve him, perhaps with Barbara's guidance.

The Red Hood crossed his arms and shook his head however. "I wasn't going to bring a bunch of kids into the Darkspace. I won't even bring my partner. If those charged gas clouds don't suck every bit of energy dry, the radiation flares will fry you. This isn't the place for anyone fully organic. You were stupid to even try and come here. The only reason you're not floating out there with the space dust is because the buzzards on the _ Strigiformes _ found a use for you."

Dick wanted to argue, because he had known the risks, but the Red Hood was right. He'd found himself stranded within days with no escape but to find refuge on an enemy ship. In some twisted turn of events, getting captured had likely prolonged his life long enough for the Red Hood to find him, but it had nearly killed him. Dick could still feel that horrible icy coldness that had been forced into his veins. He looked down at his hands again. "What did they do to me?"

“They used electrum on you.” The Red Hood punched something into the med-surg pod, and a projection of some kind of molecule came up. “I’ve seen it before in the unclaimed territories. Illegal modifications that usually kill the subjects through a controlled necrosis, but that also allows them to be reanimated and reprogrammed as mindless super soldiers. They were called Talons.”

Dick had seen this before too, when Bruce had battled the secret society known as the Court. That meant that the crew of the _ Strigiformes _ had kidnapped victims from Gotham Station for this very purpose, and they were using Haly’s colony as a base if his intel was any indication. The Red Hood was right too about the controlled necrosis and reanimation. Dick had fought them once, and the only way they could be stopped was if they were frozen. They’d never found a way to reverse the process, and yet Dick was here now, fully healed with no signs of necrotic modification.

“You’re lucky,” the Red Hood’s hollow voice seemed to follow the train of his thoughts. “You were there for weeks and the process was almost fully complete. All they had to do was kill you in that vat before you'd have been ready for programming.”

“Weeks?”

The Red Hood nodded. “It took me three weeks to find you. You’d already been missing for nearly a month.”

Crap, that was much longer than he’d realized, and if the Red Hood hadn’t stopped them from throwing him in the vat just in the nick of time, he’d be dead by now, or worse.

Dick looked down at his hands, remembering the sickly gray cast to his skin. “I’ve never seen the process reversed,” Dick wondered aloud. “How did you do it?” 

The Red Hood didn’t respond immediately. He seemed to be pondering at how much to answer, but finally he said, “Nanites.”

“You mean _ your _nanites? So I didn’t imagine the fusion cores. The blood transfusion. You’re a fully integrated nano-cybernetic?” Dick shook his head in disbelief. That kind of integration had only ever been theorized. He’d heard rumors of underground attempts in the outlaw territories, but as far as he knew no one had ever survived. “So does that mean they’re in me now too?”

“No,” the Red Hood replied, his voice somewhat clipped. “They’ll decay in a few hours without a core. You’re still fully human.”

“Oh.” Dick didn’t quite understand what that last comment meant, but the Red Hood was already moving out of the med-bay.

“We’re still in the Darkspace,” he said. “As the ancients used to say, ‘we’re not out of the woods yet.’”

Dick followed him out onto a small bridge. He didn’t recognize the ship, but the Red Hood seemed familiar and comfortable with the controls as he sat in the pilot's seat and began inputting some manual calculations into the nav.

“Are you charting back to Gotham Station?” Dick asked. 

“Yes.”

“We can’t,” Dick sat down next to him in the co-pilot's seat. “Not yet.”

“The fuck you mean ‘not yet’?” the Red Hood huffed. Dick was starting to get a feel for the voice behind the modulator, and he thought he detected more than a little hint of exasperation.

“I mean that I’m not done with my mission," Dick explained. "I was looking for thirty missing children that were taken from the lower levels of Gotham Station. We have to get them back, and I know where they were taken.”

"Children?" The Red Hood retracted his hands from the controls. They were now fisted on the armrests. Something about the kids seemed to strike a chord with the Red Hood, and Dick latched onto it.

"Children. Some as young as seven. Some runaways, others taken straight out of their homes. They were taken to Haly’s colony, in Sector DC38. If we exit the Darkspace helio-side, we can get there faster than if they sent an investigative crew from Gotham Station."

Dick watched as the other man sat motionless, and once again he wished he'd take off that stupid helmet so Dick could see his face. He seemed angry. The line of his shoulders was tense.

"They might already be dead," he said after a long pause.

"They might still be alive," Dick countered. "With kids that young, they'd need pre-modification training and programming. It would take a lot longer for the Talon serum to work if they didn't want to outright kill them."

There was a squeak of planetary-leather as the Red Hood squeezed his gloved fists even tighter. He raised a hand, then slammed it down again against the armrest. 

"Fucking hell. Fine." The grumbling that accompanied his words seemed to be amplified by his modulator. He moved again to punch a new set of manual calculations into the nav. "We can’t hyper-jump out of the Darkspace. Too much interference. Settle in, 'cause it's going to take us at least a week to get there."

Dick leaned back, momentarily relieved that he'd managed to successfully steamroll his agenda. It had actually been surprisingly easy. The Red Hood was surly and abrasive, but he wasn't as stone cold as he tried to project. Apparently there were certain buttons that could be pushed that would soften the metaphorical shield he kept up around his cybernetic heart, children being one of them.

Huh.

There was something oddly familiar about him too, but Dick couldn't quite put his finger on it. He wondered again at just what kind of man was hiding underneath the bright red helmet.

The Red Hood was indeed an enigma, one that the detective in Dick was ever curious to take apart.


	3. Chapter 3

Dick was driving him crazy. It wasn't just that Jason had to pretend he didn't know him, it was that being stuck in such close proximity with him was causing all sorts of unwanted reactions and feelings to come to the surface when he'd thought that part of himself was long dead. 

Jason had expected to feel angry and resentful, and he had tried to prepare himself to the extent that this stupid mission would have him supremely irritated from having to put up with Dick for several weeks. But the moment he saw Dick aboard the _ Strigiformes_, half dead, with that sickly gray cast from nearly being turned into a Talon, Jason realized he had wholly miscalculated his cybernetic ability to feel emotions. 

It had taken nearly everything in him to stay calm and controlled as he blasted every last one of the _ Strigiformes _ crew into smithereens when he dragged Dick out of that deathtrap of a ship. He knew Cass would have been upset at him for killing again, but she was the one who'd insisted he come on this mission. He had cranked his homeostatic subroutines to the max, only to have them spiraling again when Dick didn't resuscitate in the med-surg pod. Jason would have flat out panicked if his nanotech heart and respiratory regulators hadn't finally caught up and kicked in.

Then it was a matter of gambling that the Lazarus nanites could effectively remove the electrum from Dick's bloodstream without killing them both. It had taken hours of coursing Dick's blood through his own system, but when the gruesome gray of his skin began to flush a warm pink, Jason finally felt like he could breathe again.

Literally. His oxygen indicators had been swinging up and down wildly. The extreme levels of toxin filtration had also taxed his reserves so much that he had passed out over the med-surg pod after he had safely expunged the chemicals, only to wake again to Dick's bright blue eyes staring up from beneath him. Jason had nearly fallen out of his chair in surprise. 

Dick didn't look like someone who had nearly gone the way of becoming a reanimated corpse. Not at all. The first thought that crossed his mind was that Dick looked stunning and beautiful. He was even trying to hide a smile, that bastard, no doubt finding Jason's waking reaction humorous. 

That was not the impression he'd been hoping to make as the Red Hood. That had been embarrassing as hell, and Jason thanked the stars that his helmet hid the heat of his cheeks and quaver of his voice behind the modulator.

But then Dick started to get out of the pod and the neural connections of Jason's cybernetic brain seemed to have shorted again, because he found himself staring. Now that Dick didn't look like a dead fish, an old familiar feeling from his teenaged years welled up inside him again. The heat of his cheeks seemed to have spread down to his groin, and his fly had started feeling a little tight.

_ What. The. Hell. _ Dying and having every cell in his body embedded with molecular hardware should have allowed him more physiological control. It should have stripped him of things so reflexively human as an immediate and sudden sexual attraction, but here he was, reliving the horror of the teenaged crush he had on his predecessor. 

Jason couldn't get out of the med bay fast enough, shucking his helmet and taking a few deep breaths as soon as he got behind the closed door of his quarters. It wasn't like he didn't think he _ couldn't _still have those physiological responses. There had been no shortage of interested parties on those rare occasions he had sought release on the various smuggler's outposts he visited, but those had been backroom hand jobs for the most part, and he had viewed it as more a biological need that lingered from his remaining organics. The reaction to Dick had been unexpected and unsettling.

He did his best to pull himself together as he dug out some clothes and jammed his helmet back on. He had thought he managed to salvage most of his pride up until the point he found himself agreeing to continue Dick's mission to Haly's, and then suddenly he found himself so much in the deep end he didn't know how to get out. Pulling someone out of the Darkspace was already a feat in itself, and now Dick had convinced him to go on a mission. Which probably meant going up against the Court, and possibly a handful of reanimated super-soldier children. 

Jason wanted to put his head in his hands and scrub at his tired eyes, but he was still wearing his helmet, and Dick had continued to hover around almost incessantly since he had woken up. He had even stayed on the bridge to review and sort through some sort of care package the Bats had made sure Jason put into Dick's hands. Jason zoned it out, literally blocking out that portion of his vision. He didn't want to see it, because of course the golden child would be dearly missed by Bruce and the others, and it was a painful reminder to Jason of how little Bruce and the others had cared for _ him_.

Afterwards, Dick had returned to the copilot's seat, idly fiddling with a data tablet as he sat next to Jason on the bridge. Jason glanced over at him, only to find Dick was looking at him expectantly—like he wanted to make some sort of conversation—but there was no way in super-massive-gravitational-collapsing-hell Jason was going to engage in _ small talk _with the other willingly.

To distract himself, Jason hyper-focused on reviewing the metered readouts on the navigation system monitor. It was a painstakingly manual process in the Darkspace, and the ship had drifted off a little after he had passed out earlier from over-exerting his filtration system. Now he had to course correct.

"What are you doing?" Dick was watching him attentively, and had gotten up and out of the copilot's seat to lean over Jason and observe. 

"Charting our course." Jason shifted in his seat. Dick was standing way too close. Those nanites still running through Dick were sure doing a good job, because Jason could almost feel the heat coming off him as he put a hand on the back of Jason's chair to peer over his shoulder. The idiot should have had his guard up and not be getting so familiar, Jason thought, because for all he knew the Red Hood was a ruthless merc who'd sell him to the flesh markets first chance. Then again, maybe that was why he was so interested in Jason's navigational plotting.

"My nav shut down pretty soon after I followed the _ Strigiformes _ here," Dick remarked. "How are you going to get us out?"

"Normal algorithms won't work in the Darkspace," Jason explained as he brought up the error screen on the controls, thankful to momentarily focus on something technical rather than the way Dick had gotten even closer, leaning now with a hand on the edge of the console to look at the screens. 

"There's too much interference to chart with measurements and arrays based on point of destination," Jason continued. "You have to start with point of origin, but if your ship wasn’t set to measure increments of movement in all directions starting with the entry point into the Darkspace, then there's no way to navigate other than by _ feel._"

"Feel?"

"Yes_. _" Maybe he should have said something more descriptive, like that his nanites were unconsciously measuring the expanse of the electrically charged cloud and mapping the movements of the radiation flares, and then aggregating it into his circuits in a way that manifested into his sensory network as a feeling, but Jason just didn't like explaining himself. He didn't like talking about how much his cybernetics were actually out of his control. So 'feel' seemed like the best option.

"So it's like an intuition?" Dick probed.

"Machines don't have intuition," Jason replied bluntly. 

"But you're not a machine." 

"My fusion cores would disagree." For emphasis, he pushed up his sleeve past the elbow of his right arm, and then released the seal of his blaster. Thin red seams appeared, splitting his skin apart to reveal the red glow of the core underneath. He didn't bother to fully protract his weapons, just revealed enough to make a point.

Dick winced. "Does that hurt?"

Yes, but Jason had gotten used to it, so he simply answered, "No."

Jason retracted them again, and the red glow disappeared, hidden again by the seamless expanse of his cybernetic skin. Jason pulled his sleeve back down.

"Did you ask for this?" Dick tentatively reached a hand out, grazing Jason's forearm with his fingers. 

His brain started doing that thing again, where the neurons seemed to be misfiring, because it took Jason more than a couple seconds to process that Dick was asking if he had _ wanted _ to become a cyborg—if he had chosen this less-than-human existence.

"No." Jason wasn't sure why there was suddenly a lump in his throat. He wasn't even sure why he had answered truthfully. All he knew was that in that moment all he wanted was for Dick to be out of his hair. He didn't say anything more, hoping that Dick would drop it.

"Sorry," Dick must have noticed his discomfort, and genuinely seemed contrite. "That was none of my business."

Jason waited for his homeostatic indicators to rebalance, and then changed the subject, "You should eat something. There's food in the galley. You're still riding high on the nanites in your bloodstream, but they'll reach their half life soon and then your energy will crash. You can sleep in the room to the right. It's unlocked, but don't touch my partner's things."

Dick looked oddly disappointed at the dismissal, but he seemed to get the point and got up out of the copilot's chair. He made to move toward the back of the ship, but then paused. "Thank you. For saving my life. I should have said it earlier."

Jason shrugged. "It's what I was paid to do." He didn't turn around, making it a point not to catch himself leering at the way his spare under-armour tactical pants seemed to mold to Dick's ass. No, he had enough self control at least until he was sure Dick had left the bridge. 

He let out a heavy sigh as he went back to programming the nav. Dick had barely been awake a few hours, and Jason already felt like he'd just been put through an emotional galactic spiral. He felt exhausted, like he hadn't slept in weeks (which was true other than the nap he had over the med-surg pod), but trying to maintain his distance seemed damn near impossible when everything about the situation seemed to be working against him.

"Homeostatic regulators," Jason mumbled the verbal commands to his cybernetic system. "Cortisol. Epinephrine. Feedback limiters, two hours."

Hopefully that was enough to get him rebalanced. In the meantime, Jason forced himself to refocus on navigating through the Darkspace. The faster he got them out to finish the mission, the faster he could get away from Dick.

* * *

It wasn't any better the next circadian day. Dick was back to being relentlessly convivial, and it was driving Jason up the wall.

He had gotten a small reprieve when Dick had crashed in Cass' room after the nanites Jason had given him in the transfusion depleted, but he soon returned after what felt like a few short hours, holding out a liquid meal pack and wielding a smile that Jason was sure was going to be the death of him.

"I brought some food from the galley," Dick was saying, as he held out the packet of processed liquid fruit. It was not Jason's favorite form of sustenance, and oftentimes he avoided the meal packs altogether on shorter trips unless his organics really needed it.

The damn nanites must have been reading his mind though, because right at that moment, an alert blinked up into his vision:

_ Biologic function, 50%. _

Damnit. He hadn't eaten or slept since Dick had awakened, opting to run on his fusion core energy rather than risk the ship going adrift if he left the helm. While technically he could keep going for weeks on core energy, having some replenishment for his organic functions would probably be the smart thing to do. Except he couldn't eat anything without removing his helmet, which meant he'd have to leave the helm and hide in his room if he wanted to keep his identity a secret from Dick.

Jason couldn't help but groan in frustration. Dick was still holding out the meal pack, and at Jason's reaction, something like hurt seemed to flicker across his face.

Good. He didn't want Dick thinking just because Jason had saved his life they were somehow _ friends. _

Jason shook his head at the proffered ration. "No," he put a little more gruffness into the voice modulator, "I'm fine."

Dick shrugged and plunked himself into the copilot's seat again. He pulled another packet out from somewhere and tore it open, digging into it with his hands. Judging by the crunch of it, it was one of the cereal grain packs.

_ Crunch. Crack. Crunch. Crrrrunch. Crrrrk. _

Jason looked over at him, distracted by the sound, only to be even more distracted by the way Dick was putting the sugar-laden grain flakes into his mouth. It was a heckuva messy way to eat, and half the time he was sucking at his fingers or licking some sugary stickiness off his palm. It wasn't just distracting, it was bordering on _ obscene, _ but Dick didn't seem to be aware of what effect he was having on his fellow bridge-mate. With every dart of that pink tongue along Dick's wet lips, with every glide of his saliva-slick fingers into his mouth, and with every time he pressed his lips to his own hand to suck away some dribbled syrup with a sloppy smack, Jason felt that telltale tingle of heat spread from his cheeks all the way down to his groin.

He was getting turned on just watching Dick eat.

"Fuck my gaseous planet, can you just use a damn spoon!" Jason sprang out of his seat, suddenly feeling irritated both at his own body's reaction and at Dick. "Give me that!" 

He grabbed the bag of cereal out of Dick's hands, and Dick stared back, eyes wide and incredulous. "Hey! Give that back!"

"No!" Jason snapped, not bothering to hide his exasperation. "Why are you even eating this shit? It's nothing but empty carbs, and there's actual flash frozen meal packs in the galley!"

"I like it!"

"Fuck that. You _ almost died _ getting turned into a space zombie. You need to eat something proper," and with that, Jason stomped toward the galley. And okay, maybe it was more to get some space from Dick, but Jason was also a little concerned about Dick's recovery after the nanites cleared from his bloodstream. After all, Bruce had paid the Red Hood to return his son in one piece. Jason had to make sure Dick didn't die of malnutrition before he could get him back to Gotham Station. Nutrition was important. That was the reason Jason now decided to eschew even the pre-packed meals to pull out some of the raw ingredients he had originally gotten for Cass. Yep, he had to make sure Dick was strong enough to get through the Darkspace. That was the reason, right? 

Of course it was.

"What are you doing now?" Dick had followed him into the galley, watching Jason curiously as he prepped.

"Making sure B–, your _ dad _ gets what he paid me for once I get you home."

"He paid you to be my chef?" Dick smirked as he sat himself down at the small pull-out dining table in the galley. 

"Har har har," Jason replied dryly. He pulled up a tablet from the wall panel and set it in front of Dick. "Just shut up and keep an eye on the nav trajectory. Let me know if there are alerts for radiation storms."

Thankfully, Dick obliged, probably since Jason hadn't let him inspect the controls up until now, and Jason donned an apron and set about preparing a half decent meal. By the time he was done pulling the roasted meats and vegetables out of the convection box, he couldn't help but notice the odd glances Dick was giving him when he thought Jason wasn't looking. He'd caught Dick eyeing him more than once, looking not at what he was doing with his hands to prepare the food, but at Jason's lower extremities. Jason figured Dick was eyeing his thigh holsters, trying to gauge the level of threat, but after the third time Jason saw Dick looking, Dick didn't bother to hide it. He just gave Jason some kind of weird, goofy grin.

"What?" He turned around to face Dick. He didn't quite understand what that stupid grin meant. Maybe Dick was testing him by seeing how much Jason would let his guard down? 

"Nothing," Dick looked away, obviously trying to stifle something he found humorous as he leaned back in his chair with nonchalance.

"Okay…." There was something Jason was missing.

Dick just kept smiling.

"Whatever." Jason chose to ignore whatever awkward exchange was potentially happening. He wiped his hands on his apron, scooped a large serving onto a plate and put it down in front of Dick.

Dick wasted no time digging in. "This is amazing." His eyes were bright and warm with a sincerity that made Jason really uncomfortable. "I didn't know you could do that in a ship's convection box."

Jason kept his distance, leaning his hip against an opposite counter in the small galley. "My partner never had a chance to properly eat growing up. I do what I can."

"Your partner…," Dick chewed and swallowed, "why'd you leave her behind?"

"Too dangerous for organics. I had to reinforce shielding thrice over to make it marginally safe for you, and if we're unlucky enough to go through a radiation storm you still might get fried." Jason was deadly serious about that. He had set early warnings so he could avoid as much as possible, but it was still one of the biggest risks coming out here. Jason's artificial cells would bind and process out any irradiated particles easily, but the same couldn't be said for anyone who was fully organic. 

"I won't put Cass at risk for no reason," Jason continued. "She's been through too much already."

Dick nodded, and some part of Jason hated it, because it felt like he was giving his approval. "You care about her a lot," he said. "Are you two…." Dick waved his hand in some inarticulate gesticulation that Jason took to mean Dick was asking if he and Cass were together. 

"It's not like that," Jason quickly supplied. Cass was human, and Jason was… _ less than _ human. It was a foregone conclusion that should have precluded Dick considering such a thing, unless he was still trying to figure out how much humanity the cybernetics had stripped from Jason. Even with as much as he'd lost, Jason still tried to do his best by his partner. 

"Cass doesn't have anyone," he explained. "Her dad was the biggest douche this side of the Chiroptera. She doesn't have family. Not like _ you. _ Not everyone has a dad who would go all out for his _ golden child._"

Dick snorted. "Yeah right. If that were true, he'd be here instead of you." He paused from eating, looking back up at Jason, "Not that I'm complaining."

That weird grin again, with Dick glancing once more at his holsters. Was Dick still trying to figure out what made him tick? Or was he just trying to be friendly? If the former, Jason didn't want to invite any more scrutiny. If the latter, then having Dick so near was making him self conscious, because even after all these years, Jason reluctantly admitted to himself that Dick was still nonpareil in terms of attractiveness. 

He still had those same perfectly formed features, that natural grace in all his movements, that tousled fall of dark hair making him seem both boyishly cute yet masculine, coupled with that easy going charm…. Dick exuded a warmth like the helio-sun that Jason had longed for since he was born in the dank corners of the nether-levels of Gotham Station. It felt like no matter what he did, Dick was always at a level that Jason could never reach, and being here with him now, sitting in the galley watching Jason’s every move with Dick none-the-wiser on Jason’s true identity, it felt like he was just setting himself up for disappointment if Dick ever did find out who he truly was. 

He couldn’t keep this up, because every minute spent in Dick’s immediate vicinity had him wrapped up with how his non-existent hormones were making him jittery. He had to draw some firm boundaries, starting now. 

Jason pushed away from the counter he'd been leaning on to make his way back to the bridge.

"Where are you going? You're not going to eat?"

"No." Jason reached for the door panel. "Machines don't really need to eat."

"You keep saying that," Dick frowned. "That you're a machine, but it's clearly not true."

"Oh really," Jason stopped and turned around to face Dick with his arms crossed. "And you would know because?"

"I can just tell." Dick got up from the table and stepped up to him, keeping just an arms length away, but then he reached a hand out slowly toward Jason's forearm.

Jason immediately unfolded his arms and backed up a step, feeling uneasy at Dick's approach. His heart started thumping wildly, heat flushed his face under his helmet again, and his breath was suddenly shallow and fluttery.

Dick paused, but instead of backing away, he took another slow step forward. He reached out again, and Jason's processors were stuttering so much that he didn't react in time to prevent Dick from catching his hand. Dick brought their hands up, turning them so that their palms were pressed together. It echoed the same position from when Dick had been nearly dying in the med-pod, when he had pressed his hand against the glass, and Jason, against his better judgement and overwhelmed with worry, had mirrored the action as an act of comfort. At the time Jason had thought he'd been trying to reassure Dick, but now he wasn't so sure it didn't also serve to calm his own nerves.

That was then, because now, at that very moment, having their palms pressed together was doing the exact opposite. Jason couldn't breath. Dick was looking at him with a singular intensity that seemed to look right through his helmet and straight into Jason's core. He jerked away with a gasp, punched the panel to open the door and practically bolted to his quarters.

He engaged the double lock, and then ripped his helmet off and threw it across the room. He leaned his back against the door, and then slid down to huddle on the floor, drawing his knees up and burying his face in his hands as he tried to even out his breathing.

What the hell was wrong with him? Why had he reacted like that? It wasn't as if Dick had attacked him, but that's what it felt like. The flight response had come on fast, and it left him feeling extremely vulnerable and bewildered. Maybe his nanites were destabilizing? Maybe he needed to figure out how to reboot his systems, because this was not a normal mechanical reaction.

He took a few more calming breaths, and then initiated a command, "Sympathetic nervous system. Feedback limiters, increase fifty percent."

_ Error. Parameters out of range. _ The message blinked red across his lower vision.

"System override," Jason tried again. "Amygdalic neurotransmitters. Limit, ten percent."

_ Warning. Risk of catastrophic failure. Confirmation required. _

Jason cursed. He couldn't even successfully regulate his own system. "System check. Run diagnostics. Auto-correct, target homeostasis."

A series of statuses began to run like a ticker across the lower edge of his sight. Jason didn't bother to read them, but something about the continuous flow of letters and numbers felt calming. He took a deep breath, feeling more in control, only to be interrupted by a rapid knocking.

"Hood," Dick's muffled voice sounded urgent. "Sorry. I'm sorry, but it's the radiation storm alerts. They're going off, and I don't know how to navigate in the Darkspace."

Shit. Jason scrambled up and snatched his helmet across the room. He jammed it back on and then quickly opened the doors. He pushed past Dick and onto the bridge, flipping through the notifications and reviewing their trajectory. Dick was right, a storm was forming rapidly all around them, and the flare levels were already ten times greater than any of the previous storms Jason had traveled through. There wasn't any time to avoid it. They had minutes at best, and Jason needed to get Dick to safety.

Dick had followed closely behind him onto the bridge, and Jason got up quickly and grabbed his arm, dragging him back towards the door.

"Get in the med-bay," he barked.

"Why?"

"The storm's coming and I can't stop it. The radiation levels will kill you. The med-pod is the most shielded structure in this ship."

Jason didn't give him time to argue. He hauled Dick bodily the short distance into the med-bay and shoved him into the med-surg pod. He initiated the locks even as Dick protested and pounded against the glass, but Jason didn't let himself stop to regret it. If he didn't take control on the bridge, the storm could blow out even the most shielded radiation-resistant equipment.

He hurriedly sat in the pilot's seat, released the latches to expose the core in his right arm, and ran a cable into the ship's engine. He could reinforce the ship's ionic absorption field with his own cores.

"Core output, synchronize one hundred percent." Jason felt the energy draw down, and braced himself for the storm's impact.

The first wave hit in a blinding explosion of colorful plasma. Even with his helmet on, the light seemed to sear through his eyelids. The storm rocked the ship, and if not for his nanites already integrating their position with the controls, the ship would have spun out of path.

Wave after wave rocked the ship, and Jason did his best to ride it through. After what felt like an eternity, the lights of the storm subsided, small glimmers from lingering chemical reactions marked the expanse within view, but other than that the Darkspace was once again in line with its namesake.

Jason breathed a long sigh. That had been the worst he'd ever had to manage through, and it hadn't been easy.

_ Power levels, 40%_. "Acknowledged," Jason toggled the indicator off.

_ Nanite Concentration, Moderate. Replication in progress. _ "Acknowledged." 

_ Cognitive function, 80%. _ "Acknowledged." 

_ Biologic function, 30%. Radiation damage filter in progress. _

Crap. If the storm had taken a full twenty percent out of his organics, what had it done to Dick?

Jason jumped up and ran back to the med-bay. There was a slight movement within the med-pod, and as he unlocked it he could already see Dick was pale and barely conscious. The pod had shielded him from burns, but radiation sickness was setting in.

Dick pushed open the pod to retch on the floor, and Jason was already punching in the codes into the pod for treatment. It was bad. The radiation levels were off the charts, and it didn't help that the ship wasn't fully deionized yet either. Dick was continuing to be exposed even now, and he wasn't going to make it without more thorough filtration. 

Jason didn't hesitate to push Dick back into the pod, initiating robotics to insert an intravenous line. Then Jason was running another line through the blood box and into himself.

“Antigen match," he uttered the system commands, and he was surprised to hear there was a nervous waver in his voice. "Deionization, one hundred percent. Particle filtration, one hundred percent.”

Inside the pod, Dick blinked up at him, his eyelids heavy as he struggled to stay awake. He managed to lift a hand to press his palm up against the glass, just like he had before. This time Jason didn't hesitate to mirror the act. He removed his glove to push his hand against Dick's on the opposite side of the glass.

Dick smiled faintly at him, and even though Dick couldn't see it, Jason offered a reassuring smile in return.


	4. Chapter 4

Dick jolted awake at the sound of thunderous rumbling. He nearly fell out of the chair he was sitting in, if not for the firm hands that caught a hold of him before gently pressing him back into the reclined seat.

"Hey. You're okay," the deep electronic tones of the Red Hood's modulated voice sounded from beside him, and Dick turned to stare at that familiar red helmet again. "Try not to move too much," the other man added.

"What happened?" Dick looked down at himself, there was tubing and an IV line running from his arm and into a blood box hanging from an IV pole. He was sitting on the bridge in the copilot's seat, and the Red Hood was beside him, having momentarily turned away from the controls to fix his unblinking white eyes at Dick.

"Radiation sickness," he replied in his usual flat tone, but he was leaning in close. He lifted a hand to reach toward Dick, but then retracted it again, as if changing his mind. "The levels from the storm were too high, and the med-pod wasn't enough. I'm sorry I had to do this, but I needed to be on the bridge in case we had another storm." He waved at the blood box. "I've given you another infusion. The nanites need to keep cycling through you until you're fully decontaminated."

The Red Hood raised his other arm, and Dick saw that there was another tube coming from his arm and running into the bloodbox. 

"You seem to do this often," Dick commented. This was the second time the Red Hood infused Dick with his nanites. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"No. I've never done this." The Red Hood shifted in his seat and turned back to the controls, signaling the end to that line of inquiry. He seemed to do that often too—throw up walls as soon as something got a little more personal. It was an odd juxtaposition, given that even though he'd given Dick the blood from his cybernetic veins, Dick had yet to see his face or know his name. He clearly wanted to keep his distance, but yet in the moments where Dick was in the most need, he hadn't hesitated to do what was needed to save Dick's life. 

It went beyond what someone would do if they were simply after a fee that Bruce was willing to pay, and it went far beyond the Red Hood's insistence that he was simply a machine. Agreeing to continue Dick's mission, the care and concern for his absent partner, his disapproval at Dick's meal choice and the subsequent outcome of him preparing a full meal. Wearing an apron. _ An apron. _ It was almost adorable, and at the time Dick couldn't help but also eye the man's _ assets. _He wore fitted tactical gear that accented his muscled arms, his chiseled torso, and most especially the firm structure of his hips and thighs. Cybernetic or not, he was damn sexy. Dick was not usually in the habit of checking out strange criminals sent to save his life, but he couldn't help it. The man was extremely intriguing.

Sure, he might have been an outlaw, maybe a little homicidal, but Dick also thought there was also something unmistakably _ good _ in him. He had even been tender, as Dick recalled how they had pressed their palms together through the glass—an act that when Dick wasn't in danger, the Red Hood was extremely uncomfortable with. He had practically fled when Dick had approached him right before the radiation storm.

Dick felt guilty about that. He hadn't meant to violate the other man's space, but Dick felt an odd connection with the man who called himself the Red Hood, even after knowing him for so short a time. He even reminded him a little Jason. The boy had similarly vacillated between hot and cold every time Dick had interacted with him. In his better moods he was snarky and playful, but Jason had often struggled with strong emotions. He often buried that under a mask of either flippant indifference or deflective aggression, but he had been a good kid deep down. Dick felt a pang of regret and loss every time Jason crossed through his thoughts.

"What is it? Are you feeling sick?" The Red Hood was observing him again. Some distraught emotion must have leaked onto Dick's face, because the Red Hood looked about ready to get out of his seat to check him over. Dick found it was surprisingly endearing, and… cute.

"I'm fine," Dick did his best to allay his concern. "I was just thinking, you remind me of someone I used to know."

The other man immediately froze. "Used to?"

"Yeah. He was just a kid, but he was a great kid," Dick reminisced. "He passed away in one of the Joker terror attacks on a colonial craft near the Aethiop system, but he had a lot of spark and determination. I don't know, just something about you I guess."

The Red Hood still hadn't moved. He was gripping the armrests, and Dick surmised that if he wasn't wearing gloves his knuckles would have been white. Had he said something to set the Red Hood off? He seemed to have a soft spot for kids or he wouldn't have agreed to continue the mission. Maybe his bringing up the death of a child had triggered him? Maybe the Red Hood had lost a loved one in the Joker's colonial attacks too? Dick struggled to find the right words. It didn't seem like the Red Hood would be open to any sort of physical touch, even offered in comfort, so Dick settled on, "Are you okay?"

"You're asking _ me _ that?" The modulated tones sounded unusually tight.

"Yes. Are you?"

"I'm fine," the Red Hood stood up from his chair abruptly, then pulled the IV line from his arm. "I just need to do some maintenance to recharge my cores. The nanites in you should be good for a few hours. Come get me if the alerts go off." And with that he quickly exited the bridge. 

Dick stared after him, a great sorrow settling in his heart, because he could plainly see the denial and the pain. What in the great expanse of the Chiropteric galaxy had damaged the Red Hood so much that he was unable to even acknowledge he was human?

* * *

By the next circadius, Dick was flat out bored. The Red Hood was hyper-focused on navigating the ship, almost obsessively, and he was proving to be stubbornly difficult to coax into conversation. He was like an extremely perplexing puzzle, and Dick just had to figure out some way of easing the pins of whatever lock he'd built up within himself. However, other than the routine radiation checks and infusions, the Red Hood adamantly refused to engage. Still, Dick tried, because there simply wasn't anything to do other than piece apart the only other sentient being on the small ship.

"So… how old are you?" Dick couldn't really tell the man's age. Something about him seemed relatively young, but Dick couldn't really pinpoint any particular reason why he would think that, other than the Red Hood was fit and trim. That could have just been the cybernetics though, and maybe a good workout regimen. Especially leg day.

The Red Hood ignored him. He took some more readings from the controls as Dick watched. He flipped some switches and then entered some numbers. Dick didn't quite understand what he was doing—he knew how to manually navigate in normal space, but the complexities of navigation without forward path measurements was a bit beyond him. Even so, it almost looked like the Red Hood was adjusting their path by tiny astronomical microns.

"Are you from Gotham Station?" Dick tried again the next moment the Red Hood paused his adjustments. 

Silence.

"How did Batman find you for this job?"

Red Hood flicked the switches again. He added 5.69 microns in the starboard direction.

"How often do you go into the Darkspace?"

Another 9.77 microns, and then 6.36 port.

Okay then. Getting the Red Hood to talk about his past or any part of himself clearly wasn't working. Dick would talk about _ himself _ then.

"You know, when I was a kid in the circus, we used to caravan on comet streams to save hyperjumps." Dick smiled as he recalled the fond memory. "I used to sit up on the bridge like this with my dad, watching him navigate. Of course we weren't in the Dark like we are now, but it was nice because he'd tell me stories. Like about these planetary birds once upon a time called robins. It signaled the arrival of spring, a sort of time period on planetary where the plants would start to grow. They were known for migrating away when it got cold, but they’d always return home. My dad used to say that every robin needed a home, because otherwise they'd be lost forever."

“I know what a robin is, dumbass,” the Red Hood finally acknowledged him, the irritation clear in his voice. “Or did you forget I'm an interstation-planetary smuggler. Plus they had robins as part of Corporate aviary on Gotham Station, and there's a bunch of kids running around in BatOps using that codename because _ you’re _ the one who started it. In case I didn’t make it clear enough, I know who you are, _ Dickface.” _

That attitude. The outburst. Calling Dick a snarky name… it stirred something in the back of Dick’s mind, harkening back to those few times he'd spent with Jason, but he dismissed it, trying to focus on the present. 

The Red Hood seemed angry, but an irate response was still a response. Dick hadn’t quite figured out how the Red Hood had sussed out his identity—it was possible Bruce had to reveal certain details in order to give him the information to rescue him, but Dick rolled with it. “That confirms it then. You _ are _ from Gotham Station.”

The Red Hood had already turned back to his controls however—a solid confirmation that Dick was right, so he kept talking. “Anyway, after my parents… I settled in Gotham Station. At first I was upset I didn’t get to cross the stars anymore like I did the first eight years of my life, but then I remembered what my dad said. Every Robin needs a home. And since I lost my family, I needed to find a new one. Batman's never been particularly easy to figure out, but I warmed him up eventually. Thank goodness I had Alfred though. He probably gave me a space tanker's worth of cucumber sandwiches, but eventually, because of them, I started to see Gotham Station as home."

Dick knew he was rambling. Maybe he was homesick at this point, maybe he was nostalgic, but something he’d said triggered a reaction in the Red Hood. The other man had gone very still suddenly. He'd stopped fiddling with the controls and had brought his hands to rest in his lap.

"Alfred?" he asked, his voice sounded oddly small.

"Yeah, our butler," Dick replied. 

"Your… butler," it was hard to tell through the robotic tones, but the Red Hood almost sounded tentative. "Tell me about him."

“About our butler?" That was a little odd. Most people didn't ask about service workers employed in a household, but Alfred wasn't just the help. He was family. Dick knew that, but the Red Hood didn't. "Why do you want to know about our butler?"

“I used to have a… grandfather," some kind of warring internal struggle punctuated his sentence with long pauses. "He used to do that too. Give me cucumber sandwiches. And… he’d give me books, mostly from ancient planetary. Just... tell me about him?"

He seemed embarrassed, and Dick didn't really know what to make of this sudden outpouring, but if it kept the man engaged, then Dick was happy to share a few stories.

"Alfred's amazing, but he had his work cut out for him. I probably did my fair share of turning his hair gray from all the things I got up to." Dick smiled as memories came to mind. He shared some of the stunts poor Alfred had to put up with over the years—Dick destroying multiple chandeliers from using them as launch pads, the vases, the fine china and other crockery that had been decimated over the years. He omitted the more outrageous shenanigans from when he'd been out as Robin with Batman, but there were snippets of Alfred from their hidden station _ cave _ that Dick shared.

"Even though we've got cleaner bots all over the multilevel, he still insists on doing things himself. He even hangs upside down from a trapeze, with a feather duster and a toothbrush, to clean this giant dinosaur in our base!" Dick regaled, and the Red Hood actually laughed.

"Oh man, you better tell the old geezer to take it easy. He's gonna get hurt!" The laughter subsided, and the Red Hood leaned his elbows on his knees and looked down. Once again Dick wished he could see the man's face, but judging by his body language, he seemed melancholy.

"Your grandfather, is he still alive?" Dick thought perhaps he wasn't the only one who had gotten nostalgic. 

The Red Hood nodded, but stayed silent.

"Is he on Gotham Station? Maybe you can see him once we get back?" Dick suggested, but the Red Hood shook his head.

"No. Part of the deal with Batman was to leave Gotham. They're not my family anymore either. I'm dead to them."

That sounded harsh. Dick wasn't sure why the Red Hood had taken this mission, but why was he so ready to leave Gotham Station if it had been his home? And Dick didn't want to judge, but what kind of family turned their backs on a loved one? Perhaps it was due to his criminal activities, but from Dick's interactions with him, he knew the Red Hood wasn't intrinsically bad. Whatever falling out had happened must have been significant though. Whatever had turned him into a cyborg must have been worse.

The Red Hood leaned his helmeted head in his hand, covering the white eye-lenses in a surprisingly open display of dejection.

Dick couldn't help but reach out, grabbing the man's other hand and squeezing, and much to Dick's surprise, this time the Red Hood squeezed his hand back.

* * *

Haly's was less of a colony and more like a hobbled together mishmash of interconnected biodomes, hollowed out underground bunkers, and permanently anchored generational ships. The planetoid didn't really have enough atmosphere to sustain more than a few thousand people, and thus most of the colony's development had taken place within enclosed structures and the help of artificial air processors. It served as an outpost for a mostly transient population, and with the planetoid just out of reach from ownership claim from either of the two closest corporations, either WayneCorp or LexCorp, it collected an interesting motley of tax evaders, entertainers, smugglers, and accountants.

Sometimes all of the above.

It had taken the Red Hood another circadecan to fully navigate out of the Darkspace, and in that time Dick had enlisted him to hatch a plan for infiltrating Haly's. The Red Hood turned out to be a truly capable tactician, perhaps a little better at the painstaking details than Dick himself. Dick supposed he shouldn't have been surprised given the complicated logistical planning required to be the sector's most notorious smuggler. And as it turned out, it was a good counterbalance with Dick's preference to leave room for improvisation.

It also helped that the Red Hood had come fully stocked with the materials to make explosive charges. Dick had sat up on the bridge over the last several circadia, assembling the charges as the Red Hood continued to navigate in micro-increments through the Dark. 

Fortunately, things had eased up quite a bit between them since Dick had opened up with stories about Alfred. Conversations suddenly became easier, there were no more radiation storms, no more near bouts with death, and Dick even managed to get the Red Hood to talk about some of his time with his absent partner, the young woman he called Cass. He could tell the Red Hood was fond of her, and Dick found that incredibly endearing. He figured out that much of the other man’s prickly brusqueness had more to do with him being skittish than any sort of innate malevolence.

The Red Hood was still supremely private about his own past, and he had yet to reveal even a hint of what was hidden under that garish red helmet, but he had continued to studiously check Dick for signs of radiation sickness, supplementing with infusions as needed, and the meals continued to be prepared with meticulous care (while wearing that adorable apron). He was attentive, and Dick found himself feeling… attached. 

More than just attached. It was that, plus a strong _ attraction, _ if Dick was being honest with himself. He'd caught himself staring at the Red Hood at least a few times every circadian day, watching the now familiar movements as he shifted and shuffled about the small ship. Even though the Darkspace had nearly killed him—twice—at each of the most harrowing moments the Red Hood had been there for him. And with the time they'd spent together, Dick only wished… if only the Red Hood would open up and fully trust him, maybe they could… figure something out after this. Together….

"We're out."

Dick snapped his head up at the sound of the Red Hood’s voice. He had been zoned out in his own head, but he perked up at the words. "We're out?" 

"Yeah. Look," the Red Hood pointed out the viewscreen.

Dick turned to look, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he saw the stars again—a mosaic of bright dots of light, like a swathe of glitter across the expanse of space, distant swirls of galaxies, colorful giant gas clouds thousands of light years away—this was the view that Dick had loved from all his early childhood years.

Relief flooded him, and before he knew what he was doing he was throwing his arms around the Red Hood. "We made it! Thank you. I could kiss you right now."

"I… um," the Red Hood squirmed in his seat. Dick had practically jumped into his lap, but he didn't outright reject the contact. "Don't thank me yet. We still have to hyperjump to Haly's Colony."

"I'd be dead if it weren't for you," Dick pulled back to look the Red Hood in his white-lensed eyes. "I never could have gotten myself out of the Darkspace alive. So no, I'm still going to thank you now, and I'll thank you again later after we get those kids out of Haly's."

Dick leaned in and placed a quick peck on the cheek of the red helmet. Perhaps it was a little bold, and perhaps even a little presumptuous on his part, and for a moment Dick was worried that he'd overstepped, because the Red Hood had frozen in place. However, after a long awkward pause, the Red Hood finally reacted—he lifted a hand to stroke across Dick's cheek.

"You didn't have to do that." The hollow robotic tones sounded thinner and tighter than usual. 

"I wanted to." Dick took the Red Hood's hand and squeezed it, but then got up to move back into his seat. Baby steps, Dick thought. If he took this too fast, he judged the Red Hood was liable to bolt again.

Dick smiled back as the Red Hood watched him buckle up. "So when do we make the first jump?"

"Oh, uh," it took a few seconds for the Red Hood to regather himself, the effect making him all the more endearing in Dick's eyes. The man resettled himself and retook the controls, "We only need to do a single jump."

"Just one? With a ship this small?" To which the Red Hood nodded. 

"But how?" Dick followed on.

"A man's gotta have his secrets." Even though he was still wearing that ever present helmet, Dick would swear by the rotation of the next neutron star that the Red Hood had a smirk plastered across his face.

A final check of the controls, a tapping of coordinates, and the final kicker—the Red Hood plugged a cable that ran from the core in his left arm into the ship's propulsion line.

"Ready?" The Red Hood turned to Dick.

Dick smiled at him. "Ready."

The dots of stars turned into streaking lines, the view screen brightened before the polarization kicked in, and they were off.

* * *

They landed on Haly's in record time, and they quickly dispatched from the ship per their plan. Jason tailed down the leads with the smugglers and financiers, and Dick went deep into the tribes, seeking out old friends, and perhaps old enemies.

All the evidence pointed to the Court being behind the kidnapping and transformation of the children. Despite his and Bruce's efforts, they hadn't been able to fully root out the secret society's influence in Gotham Station, and to find them now taken root at Haly's… this was now _ personal. _ Dick would see an end to the society, and he would find and rescue the children, no matter what it took.

Dick made his way through the subterranean tubes of the small planetoid, brushing past crowded passages filled with an assortment of humanoids and non-humanoids alike. In just the first few minutes, he passed a small group of Tamaranians, a few insectoids from New Genesis, several Fluvians, and even three Rigellians. All crammed into the tight spaces of the tubes, trying to make their way into one of the seven biodomes and, eventually off the planetoid and back into the stars. 

Dick loved the bustle of people. He loved the diversity, and even though Gotham Station was one of the busiest space ports of the known interstellar corporations, it was still mostly populated by humans. Haly's on the other hand, was a veritable mixing bowl of people and cultures, and even though he had made Gotham Station his new home, there would always be a part of him that was rooted here.

He was just past the intra-dome gates to the next tunnel, when he saw a scuttle of movement in the dark corners. By the time Dick turned they'd disappeared, but not before he caught a glimpse of a diminutive yellow-green creature. He immediately recognized that gremlin-like form however. Kroloteans, notorious for their illegal genetic and biological experiments. It was too much of a coincidence—that with the missing children, the creation of the Talons, it meant the Court was definitely here.

A sinking feeling began to form in his gut. The presence of Kroloteans was never good, and if they were here running experiments, it meant that a lot of materials had to be shipped in. Resources like that weren't easy to store, and facilities to house the experiments even harder to come by on the small planetoid. There was one man who would know all the going ons of that magnitude, and Dick was going straight to the source. He had a feeling he was not going to like the answers he'd get.

Dick made his way past the larger domes, past the anchored multitudes of ships, both large generational and small ferries, toward the smallest of the interconnected domes—ironically called the Big Top, because it was the original dome, where Pop Haly had anchored first used the fledgling colony as a home base.

Dick slipped into a small office unit at the outer edge of the dome, knocking on the door of the first docked trailer. The door opened, and a familiar portly figure appeared, his yellow suspenders matching the brightness of his smile, the upturn of his handlebar mustache in line with the curve of his lips.

"Dick Grayson! My boy! It's been too long!" He immediately wrapped Dick in a tight bear hug. "What brings you all the way out to the Colony?"

"Hey Pops!" Dick returned the hug. "I'm on the job, hoping you can help out."

Pop Haly plunked himself behind his desk, and gestured for Dick to sit opposite. Dick did so, scooting forward so he could talk to Pops more intimately. "Look Pops, I'm gonna cut to the chase. I'm trying to find some kids that got taken from Gotham Station, and I know you pretty much have an ear to the ground for everyone who comes through the colony for more than a circadecan. So just tell me, any word on the Court here?"

"_Pfft," _ Pop Haly brushed the suggestion off. "The Court is just a Gotham myth, boy. There's no Court here."

"Then what are the Kroloteans doing here, Pops?" Dick leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. He didn't want to beat around the bush. He and Pops had too much history for that. "I found logs. I saw the gremlins. They're here."

Pop Haly didn't respond, but he was starting to sweat. Dick waited another minute, and then added, "I followed a trafficking ship into the Darkspace and nearly got turned into one of those walking corpses. I can't let that happen to anyone else. I can't believe that they'd be here without you knowing. Come on. They're kids, Pops. Help me find them."

The old circus ringmaster finally caved. "I'm so sorry Dick. I'm so sorry. They didn't give me a choice."

"What are you talking about?"

"They came. The Court," the man put his face in his hands. "They said if I didn't let them set up shop in the lower warden, they'd blow the whole planetoid apart. You haven't seen what they can do, Dick. I believed them."

Pop Haley raised his head, his face red and his eyes watery, and the downturn of his mouth now in stark contrast to his mustache. "There's a Krolotean cargo ship docked at Dome-5. Find them. Make this right."

Dick got up, "Thanks, Pops. I knew you'd do the right thing." He gave him a quick hug, and then, “Call InterSec, and have them contact the League. Tell them I was here, they’ll know what to do. I’ve got a feeling the Court presence here isn’t going to let those kids go.”

Hopefully the message would also get through to Batman. He would know what this all meant, and the League presence could protect the colony if things got out of hand. It was likely that the Court already knew he was here, given the sighting of the Kroloteans.

He was out the door again in a flash, activating the comm in his ear as he ran back through the tunnels, "Red Hood, do you copy? I know where the kids are."

"Copy." It was hard to tell, the low frequency wave they were on was adding to the distortion of the Red Hood's modulator, but he sounded a little breathless.

"You okay?" Dick asked, slightly concerned. He was pretty sure he was also hearing the distinct sound of phasers blasting in the background.

"Fine," the Red Hood responded between the sounds of explosions. "Let's just say I didn't have to look too hard for the Court."

"Okay," Dick would have to trust that the Red Hood knew what he was doing. "I'm relaying the coordinates. How close are you?"

There was a muttered curse, and then, "Close enough. I'm gonna blow the propulsion for ships docked at Dome-5 to keep the ship from leaving."

Per their plan, the Red Hood had planted charges along the ship docks, and sure enough, seconds later the rumble of a distant charge going off rocked the tunnel Dick was still in. People were starting to panic in the tunnels, running in the opposite direction of which Dick attempting to go. It was all he could do to keep from getting trampled.

“I’m on my way,” Dick ordered as he dodged and pushed through the crowds in the tunnel. “Protecting the kids is your priority.”

“Yeah yeah, just ‘cause you’re a dick doesn’t mean that makes you Mr. Bossypants,” the Red Hood quipped back. “This isn’t my first rodeo, and I’ve been to Taurus Station, I’ll have you know.”

Not the most ingenious of snappy comebacks, but that banter. And that snark. It seemed familiar. It was almost like what he’d expect from working with the other Bats, especially since the Red Hood must have been in the throes of fighting. It reminded him once again of _ Jason, _ but that couldn’t be, could it?

Not more than a few minutes passed before the Red Hood's voice cut through the line again, "Hey, good news, I’m aboard the Krolotean cargo ship and I found the kids." There was a short pause and Dick could hear the rapid bursts of phaser fire in the background. "Bad news, they're in stasis, and I'm not going to be able to move them out of their pods. I blew the propulsion dock and the thrusters are shot, but they’ve got a transporter starting to tow it out into space.”

Crap. If the Court took Jason and the kids aboard through a hyperjump, they could be lightyears away in a matter of seconds, and unless Dick was close enough to put markers in their trail, he would have a hard time tracking them. “We have to cut them off before they breach atmosphere, or they’ll hyperjump with you and the kids on the cargo ship.” 

“No shit." Even with the robotic monotone, Dick could hear his sarcasm. "So get my ship, and get your ass over here!”

Dick was already running in the other direction toward where they’d docked. Fortunately he was only mere minutes away. "How much can your ship tow? Can it pull the cargo ship?"

The Red Hood cursed again in frustration. "Yeah. It’d be easy in space, but it won’t have enough propulsion for both ships to escape Haly's gravitational pull without a boost from my cores."

That meant Dick had to get to the cargo ship in the next few minutes before it breached the atmosphere, take out the Court transport, and then somehow get the Red Hood on board before the cargo ship went crashing back down on top of the colony. 

“Hang on. I’m coming to get you.” Dick had made it back to the Red Hood’s ship, jumping into the pilot’s seat and gearing up the propulsion thrusters. If he didn’t intercept, then the Red Hood, the children, and the entirety of Haley’s colony could potentially be destroyed.

Dick strapped in and hit the launch sequence. He could only hope to High Helios that he’d make it in time.


	5. Chapter 5

Of course the mission would go sideways, because things always did for Jason. He should have figured it would be a given when as soon as he started sniffing around the bars and back rooms where smugglers picked up jobs, that the first thing he would be offered was a child trafficking gig. It was way too easy. That should have been his first clue. And maybe he got a little too obviously angry and overzealous when the guy had referred to the kids as chattel, and offered as part of the payment that the Red Hood could "keep one, to use and dispose of as you see fit," because Jason had responded to that by punching the fucker in the nose. 

Then it turned out the asswipe was an Owl of the Court, and kicking him in the teeth was the equivalent of kicking the metaphorical hornets nest. So he shouldn't have been surprised when while he was shaking down the guy for information, an army of little green-yellow gremlins swarmed and attacked him. 

Those little fuckers bit hard—enough to break through both his tactical gear and his cybernetic skin—and every time he put one down another one would nip at his calves or on his shoulder, ripping into him with it's razor sharp teeth.

_ Warning. Soft tissue damage. Regenerative protocol initiated. _

"Acknowledged," he grumbled as he blasted the little gremlins into yellow particle dust. Not that the protocol would help much in the middle of a battle. His regenerative abilities were faster than a human's but not by much, and he usually needed sleep in order to do so.

He was in the midst of fending off a second wave of them when Dick pinged him through the com, and that was why he was currently stuck aboard a grounded Krolotean cargo craft with a bunch of podded kids, only to have it dragged up into the sky by a tractor beam. He should have realized blowing out the propulsion systems of the ships in Dome-5 would bite him in the ass. Blown engines wouldn't prevent a transporter from towing them off the planetoid.

The cargo ship rumbled and jolted as it was being lifted out of dock, and Jason scrambled to try and find some way to delay them reaching the outer atmosphere. He ran through the rows and rows of pods in the cargo hold, the children currently safe in suspended animation, but they wouldn't be for long. As the seconds ticked by, they were rising further and further into the air. Jason ran toward the bridge to see if he could figure out something out with the controls, but no luck there. Cargo ships like this were built for slow travel however, with no hyperjump capabilities of its own and limited weapons. It was why smugglers like him often stole ships like these. They usually traveled with escorts, but they were usually no match for the Red Hood. 

His only option now was to wait for Dick to arrive, and somehow get back onto his own ship to tow the kids to safety. Jason made his way to the airlock, preparing himself to exit the ship.

"Activate gravitational adhesion." The protocol initiated a small gravitational field around his boots. The effect was small, but it would at the very least prevent him from being blown off the surface of the cargo craft as it was dragged upward. He sealed the airlock, and then opened the outer door.

Even with the gravitational adhesion, he was nearly flushed out into the open sky with the rush of air. He managed to grab on to the external hand grips however, and slowly climbed around to the top of the ship as the wind whipped around him. 

_ Warning. Oxygen levels suboptimal. _ The red text blinked up at the edge of his vision.

"Acknowledged." The atmosphere was thin even on the surface of the planetoid, and even more so as they got higher up. Jason's lungs burned as he tried to take in enough air.

Now that he was outside, he could now see they were already halfway out of the planetoid atmosphere. He was running out of time. He turned, searching the horizon for any sign of Dick.

There. He spotted him, coming up portside a few milliunits away, but he was fending off a set of about ten Court fighter ships.

Damnit. Jason's ship was fully armed, and Dick was doing a formidable job of dogfighting, but it was still a smuggling ship. There was no way it could stand up to the speed and maneuverability of the fighter ships for long.

"Radius, five-thousand feet. Identify charges."

_ Charge numbers 14, 16, 23, 24, 27 and 30. _ The numbers blinked into his view. 

Good. That was at least six of the fighter ships that he had managed to plant charges on in Dome-5, before he encountered the Court.

"Detonate identified charges," Jason commanded, and immediately a series of explosions went off. The six fighter jets began falling out of the sky.

Just four more to go, and they were now close enough that Jason could probably take them out the old-fashioned way. He gripped the surface of the cargo ship with one hand, bracing himself as he protracted the fusion blaster in his other arm. He was about to take aim and fire at one of the ships, when his com buzzed.

"Hood!" Dick's voice chimed through, "refrain from lethal blasts. There are Court pilots in the ships, but they're still people!"

"You have got to be kidding me!" Jason growled. "Tell that to them, because I'm pretty sure they're shooting to kill."

"Just provide cover fire," Dick buzzed back, "I'll disable their systems, I'm already running a hack."

"Fine. It is _ not _ my fault then, if I randomly fire into the air, and they just _ happen _ to run into a fusion blast. That's on them."

Despite his grousing, Jason did as Dick asked. He set off a series of fusion blasts, aimed to not quite hit, and had the last four fighter ships taking evasive maneuvers. True to Dick's word, after several minutes the hack seemed to take hold and they stopped firing and began dropping back.

Jason fired a few more blasts just to be safe, but then a new red flag appeared at the edge of his vision again.

_ Warning. Power levels, 15%_. 

Shit. The earlier hyperjump had taxed his already depleted energy reserves, and the weeks of being in the Darkspace, coupled with the additional load of transfusions to save Dick's life, had hindered his ability to replenish. Now, the use of his fusion blasters was pushing him into dangerously low territory. There wasn't much he could do about it at the moment though, other than hope that it was enough.

Dick was nearly upon them now, and Jason readied his blaster for one last shot.

"Dick, I'm going to take out the transporter tractor beam," he relayed through the com. "Get ready to send out your own beam, and then I'm coming on board. Ready?"

"Ready."

Jason aimed and fired, the fusion blast knocking out the tractor assembly, which immediately sent the Krolotean cargo ship Jason was still clinging to into freefall. It was only a few seconds later, however, that a second tractor beam from Dick latched on. Jason jumped into the tractor stream and let himself be pulled toward the small ship until he collided with the surface with a small clang. Not his most graceful stunt, but it made do. He climbed into the airlock and boarded the ship.

"Oh thank goodness!" Dick turned to him from the pilot's seat as soon as Jason entered the bridge. "I was worried you'd get ripped apart in the tractor stream."

Jason was momentarily stunned when, as they shuffled seats, Dick grabbed his hand and placed a quick kiss on the outside of his helmet. Before Jason could process it, Dick had already switched into the copilot’s seat. Jason could only strap into the pilot's seat and try to refocus. 

He took hold of the controls. Dick had already maxed out their thrusters to try to achieve outward bound velocity, but just as Jason suspected, it wasn't going to be enough. The cargo ship was heavy, and wasn't built to leave an atmosphere without the help of a propulsion dock. They were already reversing into freefall, and if the ship crashed anywhere near the colony, it would kill the children and a good chunk of the colony both.

Jason ran the propulsion line from the control set to his arm, as the ship shuddered and shook, straining to maintain velocity, but failing.

"We're going into freefall!" Dick was trying to steer their trajectory away from the colony. "Can you get us to escape velocity?"

Jason quickly did a mental calculation in his head. At this rate, it would take a sustained injection of energy to reverse the freefall—more energy than Jason could keep up for the length of time it would take to achieve escape velocity. His power warnings were now at 12.5% and draining, and that would get eaten up before they reached the outer atmosphere. They weren't going to make it, unless….

"I can't sustain the boost needed for escape velocity long enough," he said aloud. "We're gonna have to hyperjump."

"Hyperjump? From a freefall?" Dick turned to him in surprise. "Can you do that?"

He could. It would expend what was left of his energy cores, but he was confident it would work. He could save Dick and the kids, but it would likely kill him.

"Yeah. I can," he replied. He didn't want to explain that last part though.

He wasn't sure what might have given it away, but the next thing Dick said was, "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," Jason lied, even as he ran the cable from his cores into the propulsion line. "Core output, synchronize one hundred percent."

_ Warning. _ The red alert was filling his vision. _ Power levels, 10%_. _ Further external output risks catastrophic failure. Confirmation required. _

"Confirmed," Jason watched the power indicators on the hyperjump drive power up. He set a target course toward Gotham Station. It was a long jump, but even if he had set a shorter jump, the energy it would take to get them out of freefall would still deplete him.

"Confirmed? What's confirmed?" Dick demanded.

He didn’t want to look at Dick, because if he did… he wasn’t sure if he could go through with it. Jason hadn't thought of himself as human for a long time, but these last few weeks with Dick… it had awakened feelings in him he had thought were lost to the Lazarus tech long ago. When Dick had kissed him… _ kissed him _ not once, but _ twice, _ Jason couldn't deny what he was feeling anymore. That stupid crush from his teenaged years had reawakened, bloomed and took root, and now he was freaking _ in love. _

Cass was going to be so pissed at him, he thought. She'd been right the whole time, of course. If she were here she'd smack him one.

"I'm sorry, Dick," the words nearly choked in his throat. “Tell Cass I'm sorry, but thank you for reminding me of who I used to be before I died.” 

“Before you died?” Dick was looking at him, his brows furrowed, his mouth slightly open as he tried to voice his concern and distress, but before he could say another word Jason pushed the hyperjump throttle forward. He immediately felt the outsurge of energy as the hyperdrive drained his cores, like a suction that pulled and stripped away at his essence. He felt his strength slipping away as the stars were obliterated by a blinding white.

He was thrown back into his seat as the force of entering the hyperjump rocked and jolted the ship, and with each passing second, with each minute, he felt himself grow cold and numb. 

_ Warning. Power levels, 0.9%. Critical failure imminent…. _

Jason used the last of his strength to ease the throttle back, readying for transition back to normal space.

_ Warning. Biologic function, 2%. Shutdown imminent…. _

He slumped forward, gasping. He couldn't breath, couldn't force his lungs to expand.

_ Warning. Nanite Concentration, Depleted. Replication failure…. _

There were hands pulling at him, unstrapping him from the pilot's seat.

_ Warning. Cognitive function, 5%. Shutdown imminent…. _

"Hood? What… what's wrong?" Dick's face appeared over him. He must have somehow gotten Jason out of his chair to lay him down on the floor of the bridge.

"Spent... my cores…," Jason managed between wheezing breaths. 

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Dick's eyes were red. He looked panicked. "No! You stupid…. Oh Helios, please no. Can we recharge you? Tell me what I need to do."

"I don't know. I've never…" Jason shook his head, and then with shaking hands, reached to unlatch the catch of his helmet. It seemed to take everything in him to slide it off, but he finally managed it. He looked up into Dick's stunningly beautiful eyes. He looked at the perfectly formed planes of his face and the fullness of his lips. Dick's face was probably the last thing he would see. The only thing Jason regretted was he looked so sad.

Dick stared back at him in stunned shock. "J– _ Jason?" _

"Surprise." He tried to smile, but he couldn't feel his face anymore.

"Jason!" It sounded like Dick was sobbing, but Jason couldn't tell for sure because his optical receivers had dimmed so much he couldn't see.

"I just wanted you to know, I…." He tried to say, _ I'm in love with you, _but his vocal processor had shut down, and the world had already gone dark.

  



	6. Chapter 6

Dick watched in horror as the Red Hood—no, _Jason_—went silent and still in his arms, his eyes half-lidded and unblinking, the vivid green he'd barely managed to catch a glimpse of had quickly faded to a dull gray.

"Jason!" Dick gathered him to his chest, hot tears streaking down his face as he held him close. How could this have happened? How could he have spent weeks with the man, getting to know him, breaking down his walls, wanting him, falling in love with him… how had he not realized the Red Hood was one of their own? There had been moments where Dick had suspected and felt a faint spark of recognition, but Jason had died years ago, and back then he had just been a boy. Dick hadn't connected the dots, and now it was too late….

No.

No, it couldn't be too late. Dick refused to accept that. Jason hadn't given up on him throughout their time in the Darkspace, and Dick wouldn't let him go a second time without a fight.

He wrapped his hands under Jason's shoulders and hefted him up. Dick staggered slightly under the weight, but managed to steady himself enough to carry Jason to the med-bay. He hoisted him up and over the edge of the med-surg pod and laid him down, quickly shutting the glass and initiating a stasis field. The med-pod cryogenerator began to hum, the inside now filling with an eerie blue glow. If there was anything left in Jason that was still alive, the pod was the best chance of sustaining him until they got back to Gotham Station. 

Dick leaned over Jason's unmoving form, looking over the striking features that had been kept hidden from him for so long. He'd grown a lot over the years. The boyish roundness that Dick remembered of his cheeks was replaced by angled cheekbones and a strong jawline, but he had the same arch of thick brows, the same straight line of his nose, the same curve of his bottom lip that Dick remembered often curled into a side-grin. He remembered Jason had blue eyes. 

Somehow that had changed.

Dick placed a kiss on the outside of the glass. "I'll get us the rest of the way home," Dick whispered. "I promise."

He moved back to the bridge. Somehow even in the mere minutes that had past, the ship suddenly felt incredibly empty and hollow. Lonely. Bereft.

Dick sat in the pilot's seat—Jason's seat—and charted the path back home. The ship was still out of range for short-coms, but he sent a long-range superluminal ahead. It could still take another circa-decan back to Gotham Station with the ship's hyperdrive drained, and they were slowed even more with towing the Krolotean cargo ship behind them with the children. 

He looked back toward the med-bay. He linked the ships scanners to the cargo ship still attached via the tractor beam. There was barely enough fuel to make it into Corporate territory. 

It would have to be enough.

* * *

Two circadian days later, a hail chirped through on the ship's com. "Dick? Are you there? Come in." 

Dick blinked open his eyes. He'd fallen asleep, draped over the the med-pod again. He wasn't sure why he'd continued to stay close to Jason's side… it was a little morbid, he admitted, since Jason was in cryo, but he found it made him feel less lonely somehow in the quietude of the ship.

"Dick, I'm in the ship's systems. I'm letting the others in through the airlock." The voice over the com came again, and Dick recognized it. It was Babs!

Before he could get up to reach the com, Dick heard the telltale whoosh of the airlock seal, and then the _ clunk clunk clunk _of the chamber door turning.

Dick jumped out of the med-bay to run toward the ship's stern, only to smack into something hard as he rounded the doorway. That something caught him before he could fall backwards onto his ass. When he looked up, he saw a familiar dark cowl with pointed ears and white eyes. 

It was Batman. He immediately hauled Dick back onto his feet, gripping his shoulders tight, giving him a hard assessing gaze as he said, "Dick, are you alright?"

To which Dick responded by wrapping the other man in a hug. "I missed you too, Bruce."

"Ahem." Another smaller and younger voice behind them, and Dick pulled away to find Robin standing close, with Tim in his gear as well, adjacent on the other side.

Dick pulled them both into a hug too. Damian even lingered, gripping him back and not letting go. "You're an idiot," he mumbled into Dick's shoulder.

The reunion was cut short however, by a startled gasp from yet another person back in the med-bay. Dick turned to see Steph was there, as Batgirl, but she wasn't the one who had made the noise. It was the young woman beside her with dark hair. He didn't recognize her, but judging by the way she had her hand over her mouth in horror, the anguished expression of her eyes, and the way she was anxiously touching the glass of the med-pod, Dick knew this must be Jason's partner—the one he had called Cass.

Dick stepped forward, but Bruce brushed past him first. "Wait, Bruce," he tried to warn him, but Bruce was already in the door and looking into the med-pod.

At first there was no immediate reaction. He simply stood there, the line of his stance rigid, his mouth hanging open as he undoubtedly recognized Jason’s features—putting the pieces together that his dead son had been resurrected as the Red Hood. Then a broken sound came from the back of his throat, a half-swallowed sob of devastation. He pushed back his cowl and pressed his hands to the glass, grief and sorrow flickering across his face, and Dick felt it echoed in his own heart.

“I don’t understand.” He turned back to Dick. “How did this happen?”

It was one question, but it was loaded to the gills. How did Jason resurrect? How did he end up a fully-integrated cybernetic? How did none of them realize he was alive, and why hadn't he revealed himself when Bruce sent him on the mission? And most importantly, how did he die again? Dick didn't even know how to start. 

Everyone was turned to him, awaiting his answer in stunned silence. Only Cass made a sound; she was actively weeping.

"I didn't know until a few days ago." Tears welled up in his eyes as he recalled the events leading up to this moment. "He's a fully integrated cybernetic, and he spent the last of his cores saving us—me, plus the other kids in stasis, along with Haly's colony."

"Can he be revived?" Bruce moved to examine the med-pod readouts, but judging by the grim downturn at the corners of his mouth, the reanimation vitals were slim to none.

Dick closed his eyes as the reality of it set in. The last few days, he'd clung to hope that he had gotten Jason to the med-pod in time—that there was still a chance he was alive—but now he wasn't so sure. Emergency stasis was a measure of last resort, and even then it was often still a gamble. 

He opened his mouth, hoping the answer that came out would be more hopeful than what he felt, but someone else interrupted.

"Yes." It was Cass. She waved her hands, seeming to struggle for words and failing. She then looked at Steph, who was looking at a data feed on the array of her gauntlet. 

"She says the cores still have residual energy. They just need to be recharged." Steph cocked her head, as if trying to decipher something. She looked at Dick. "Does that make any sense to you? Cass has a supernormal ability to read physical and coded language, including robotics. She had a neural implantation at a young age, but she struggles with human language."

Dick nodded. "He mentioned recharging, but he never let me see how."

"He sleeps," Cass answered aloud.

"Sleeps?" It couldn't be that simple, could it?

Cass stepped close to him, and shook her head. She tapped her own head and said, "Sleep. Here." Then she put her hands over her heart and said, "Awake. Here. Charge."

Dick shook his head, not understanding, but then she put her hands over his heart. "Gave you… his blood," she said. "I feel it. Stayed close. Stayed alive. Nanites."

The nanites were still running in his blood?

Cass nodded and pointed at him. "Give him. Nanites."

"What does that mean?" Bruce interjected, desperately seeking an explanation.

Realization was dawning on Dick. He understood what Cass was saying. "He saved my life," he said. "Not once, but twice, by using his nanites to filter through my blood multiple times. They should have died off, but somehow they're still active because I've been staying in close proximity to him and his cores." Dick scrambled for the blood box, "He needs an infusion of nanites to regenerate, and there might be enough left in me for it to work."

All at once, everyone around him was in motion. Damian nudged him to sit down in a chair, Stephanie was prepping his arm with a needle, Tim was rapidly punching a code into the transfusion kit, and Bruce was programming the med-pod. Soon, a line was running from Dick's arm through the blood box and back into Jason through the pod.

Cass sat beside him, and Dick could practically feel the worry thrumming through her as she rested a hand on his arm. It seemed for both his comfort as well as her own.

They sat and waited. 

Minutes ticked by. The cryogenics slowly thawed until the blood could flow.

The minutes turned into hours. The others left to facilitate transporting them home, towing the cargo ship with the kidnapped children still in stasis back to Gotham Station. 

Bruce stayed behind to pilot Jason's ship. Cass stayed behind for Jason.

It was reaching the end of a full circadian day, and they had recalibrated the blood box to filter in as many nanites in his plasma as possible. There was nothing more any of them could do. 

Dick closed his eyes and pressed his palm against the glass of the med-pod. "Come back, Jason. We're waiting for you."

When Dick opened his eyes, there was a hand pressed against the glass on the opposite side. Vivid green eyes blinked blearily back at him.

"Hey Dickie," Jason rasped.

Dick sobbed in relief, but he smiled. "Hey."

* * *

::::::: _ Several weeks later _:::::::

Dick flipped across the archways of the mid-section pavilions of Gotham Station, anchoring a grav-hook under the vaulted Trigate bridge and doing a somersault before landing on the underside of the multigrav pathway. He followed the curve of the path until he could see the entire expanse of the bridge, connecting the main commercial section to the residential multi-levels.

The soft glow of the city lumens spotted the open central column of the stationscape behind him, and the artificial dusk had brought in a layer of fog that blanketed the air. It was a refreshing humidity that was welcome, given most station filtration systems would only put out dry air without the assistance of weather turbines.

Dick spared another moment to take in the view before him, feeling grateful that this was home, and then turned toward one of the smaller multi-levels. He scanned through the secure entryway, quickly removing his mask and the structural components of his Nightwing suit, then bounded up the steps to his small single-level unit.

The door to his spare room was open when he entered the living room, and Dick could see the dim light of the bedside lamp gently filling the doorway. He peeked his head in to see Jason, curled up and sleeping amidst a pile of blankets. Dick wanted to go in and check on him, but he needed to rest.

He had started visiting the rehab center Doc Thompkins was running for the recovery of the kidnapped children, and thus far they hadn't found any other way to reverse the electrum in their systems other than for Jason to run it through his own filtration systems. It was an arduous task, and it took a heavy toll on him, but Jason was adamant that he could do it. Leslie limited his transfusions to one patient per week, and closely monitored him for drainage to his cores. None of them wanted his close call after what happened at Haly's to ever happen again, and though Dick and the others, especially Bruce and Cass, worried at his well-being, saving the children wasn't something they would try to prevent him from doing. 

They just had to make sure Jason had adequate recovery time—he needed sleep and proper sustenance. After conferring with Cass, it was clear Jason had lied about not needing to eat. Perhaps _ lied _ was too strong a word. It was more like _ denial, _ because it was also clear that he was conflicted about his existential status. He still didn't think he was fully human anymore, even though Dick fervently disagreed.

That would have to be addressed another day though. Jason needed a quiet place to recuperate, and so Dick turned to leave the room.

"Dick?" A muffled voice called after him, and Dick turned to see Jason had poked his head up out of the blankets, his hair mussed, the drowsiness of sleep still cast upon his mien.

"Hey, don't get up," Dick moved back into the room. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine. I've been recharging since I got back," Jason replied, though Dick didn't quite believe it. He waited as Jason ran through what Dick had recently learned was some kind of automatic system check that he went through every time he woke. 

"Acknowledged," Jason muttered every few seconds. He kept his eyes downcast, but Dick knew he was viewing some sort of display built into his vision. "Retinal display off," he finally said. "Emergency alerts only."

"Everything alright?" Dick asked.

"Yeah fine," Jason nodded dismissively. 

Dick wanted to probe more, but restrained himself. Jason didn't like it when he was asked for specific stats, even though Leslie had warned him to keep his cores above 50% power levels. His regenerative and recharging capabilities were still weak, and were continuing to be taxed with the use of his filtration systems for the kids at the rehab center. Dick wanted to ask what percent Jason was currently at, but he'd seen Jason bristle the few times Bruce or anyone other than Leslie had asked. If he wasn't forthcoming with his stats, short of plugging Jason into a diagnostic meter, it was hard to tell if he was truly recharging enough. All Dick could do was worry, and try not to be too overbearing in his concern.

Jason seemed to be in the mood for company though, because he motioned for Dick to approach, and continued talking. "How was patrol? Did you find any leads on the Court?"

Dick moved to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning a hand on the mattress as he rotated to face Jason, giving him a brief run down on the case. Jason sat leaning against the headboard, listening attentively. When Dick finished, he simply nodded. It seemed like Jason wanted Dick to stay. He wanted to talk, which wasn't always the case with him, but he also seemed to be debating with himself. 

When no words were forthcoming from Jason, Dick went ahead and filled the silence. "How's Cass?" 

"Good," Jason seemed relieved at the turn of the subject. When he wasn't working to save the children with Leslie at the rehab clinic, Jason had often been with Cass, helping Barbara sync her language networks. "Babs is working with her to integrate speech morphology " he explained. "Hopefully syntax and semantics soon, but we don't want to overload her."

"Was Bruce there?"

"Yeah." Jason didn't elaborate.

Bruce remained a touchy subject. Their reunion had been… a mixed bag. Bruce had been blindsided by the revelation of Jason's return, and while Dick had always known that he blamed himself the first time Jason died, it was now compounded by the fact that Jason had failed to reveal himself when Bruce had unknowingly sent him on a suicide mission into the Darkspace. Add to that the conflict over Jason becoming a notorious interstellar criminal, and it had made for some rather heated outbursts in the first week since their return. Despite that, Dick knew that overall Bruce was relieved and grateful for Jason being alive.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Jason was ready to accept that. Much to Bruce's disappointment, he remained standoffish and wary everytime he was around. He refused to reveal the circumstances of his resurrection, and kept the details of how the nanites worked to himself. 

Bruce however, was not willing to accept that at face value, and he had relayed to Dick that he suspected the highly illegal Lazarus tech was involved. Doc Thompkins agreed. In the first few days back on Gotham Station, while Jason was weak and bedridden as he re-stabilized his cores, she'd done a preliminary scan that showed the nanites to be of unknown origin. They were thoroughly integrated into the maintenance of his entire biological system, though the scans also showed they weren't well calibrated to manage Jason’s emotional processors. It probably exacerbated his inherent mood swings, and hindered his ability to manage aggression. 

Jason seemed to know it too. He intentionally avoided interacting at all with Tim, and kept his distance from Damian. He seemed to have taken a shine to Stephanie however, given how close she had become to Cass.

Bruce wanted Leslie to come up with solutions to more appropriately calibrate the nanite's protocols, but Dick had warned Bruce he couldn't do that without Jason's consent. As far as Dick knew, he hadn't yet found a way to broach the subject yet with Jason directly. In the meantime, Dick was ready and willing to play the role of mediator.

"Just tell me if it's ever too much," Dick told him, reeling his thoughts back to the present. "You can stay here as much as you want."

"Okay," Jason shrugged and muttered, "Alfred said just about as much too." His reunion with Alfred, at least, had been filled with nothing but warmth and joy from both parties. Jason even had an old set of antiquated planetary books now growing at his bedside thanks to the old man.

Dick smiled at that. Jason had only been here a couple circadian days, but he was making himself at home, and it had taken surprisingly little to convince him to stay with him after Leslie had discharged him from the Sector General. Dick only needed to assure him, with confirmation from Cass, that she had found a home with Babs while they worked on her language integration. After that Dick had simply offered him a spare room, noting his proximity to both the rehab center and his partner’s residence, and he had accepted. 

After several decans in the Darkspace together, going through Hell and Helios and all the way out to Haly’s and back, perhaps the both of them had gotten used to being in close proximity with the other. Perhaps they had reached the point of feeling comfortable enough that it would feel strange when they were without the other for long periods of time.

Dick certainly hoped so at least. His feelings hadn’t changed even after finding out Jason was the Red Hood, and he wanted to see if whatever it was that had started between them in the Darkspace could continue. He hadn’t tried to push any intimacy, given it had literally taken Jason several weeks to get his cores back up to just half power, but he had laced their fingers together when he’d been sitting by Jason’s bedside at Sector General. He’d continued to do so in quiet moments once Jason had come home with him, even placing quick kisses on his lips before Dick left for patrol, and Jason had been receptive, if only a little shocked each time.

He considered his next move as they both lapsed into an easy quiet, with Jason looking back at Dick almost expectantly. It was Jason who moved first, however hesitantly. He leaned forward toward Dick, placing his hand inches from Dick’s own, and then stared down at the space between their hands pressed into the bedsheets. Then he lifted his hand, palm facing toward Dick, and Dick knew that to be as good as an open invitation.

Dick lifted his hand to mirror Jason’s and pressed them together, threading his fingers into Jason’s and drawing him in close. He leaned in slowly, tilting his head slightly, and Jason met him halfway, pausing just before their lips touched. Dick could feel the soft gust of breath, the warmth, and the feeling like some kind of inner inertia was pushing him forward to close the gap between them. He didn’t know who moved first, and it didn’t matter. The next thing he knew, Dick could feel the pliancy of Jason’s lips against his own, he could feel the firmness of his shoulders and back through his thin shirt as Dick reached his hands up to pull him even closer. Jason was doing the same, bringing his hands to rest against Dick’s lower back as Dick climbed to straddle over his lap.

Jason was sliding his hands under the hem of the base layers Dick was still wearing, gently grazing along his obliques and then pausing. “This okay?” he asked, pulling back momentarily so he could lock his ever-so-green eyes on Dick’s vivid blue.

Dick nodded. “More than okay.” He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, and then took Jason’s hands and brought them to run over his bare skin. Jason stroked along his ribs, up over his pecs, thumbing along the nubs of his nipples and lingering there. Dick arched as the rough pads teased the buds until he was perked and panting, and Dick brought their faces together once more, this time in an open-mouthed kiss. Jason tasted hot and sweet as Dick licked and sucked and teased with his tongue. He moved to kiss at Jason's neck, running his hand through his hair, and then pulling at the fabric of his shirt.

Jason responded by leaning backward to remove his shirt, crossing his arms and lifting the edges of the fabric up and over. Dick watched the roll and ripple of the muscles under Jason's skin, every bit of him seemed refined and chiseled, as if he was cut from some kind of ancient marble stone, but warm and supple, and full of life. It was hard to imagine that he wasn't simply just a man, let alone part machine, with cybernetic fusion cores thrumming within, but in the moment, Jason just felt vibrantly alive under Dick's hands.

He dragged them together again, tongues entangled, their breaths hitched, and Dick felt Jason's hands skirting along the band of his pants. Felt them arc over the crest of his hips before rolling to grip his buttocks. Jason jerked him forward so that Dick was more firmly seated in his lap, and Jason pulled him down so that their groins were touching. Jason was hard, and Dick sported an arousal to match. Dick ground himself down, feeling heated pleasure build with pressure and friction each time their cocks brushed together. 

Dick threw his head back and groaned. He felt hot. _ Too hot. _ Too tight. His erection was too constricted in his pants. He reached down to undo his fly, and then reached to cup his hand over Jason's straining member. He was only wearing a pair of sweats, and Dick could feel his thickness, the length of him as he stroked his hand up and down, and the twitch and pulse of him as Dick reached further down to fondle his balls.

"Can we…?" Dick dipped his hand down the front of Jason's sweats, the question clear as he grazed his fingers lightly along the underside of his glans.

"Yes," Jason panted beneath him and arched his hips up at the direct contact. Dick shifted onto his knees so that he could strip out of his pants. He peeled them down over his hips slowly as Jason watched, the flush of arousal staining his cheeks. He flicked his tongue along his lips as Dick finally slid his pants down to his thighs, exposing himself fully. Then Jason was crawling forward, nuzzling along the trail of hair that led from Dick's navel down to his cock. 

"I've always wanted this," Jason murmured against his skin, leaving a hot trail of kisses and teasing bites as he moved lower. "I've wanted you for so long. High Helios, you're so fucking gorgeous."

And then Jason took Dick in his mouth, and holy hydrogen halos, it felt incredible as bursts of tingling pleasure spread from his groin and out all along his body. Jason swallowed him down to the root, tongue probing, slick and wet as he bobbed his head up and down. Dick gasped and mewled. He tangled his fingers in Jason's hair, and Jason slipped a hand around to knead his ass, running his fingers along his cleft, pulling away just long enough to wet his fingers in his mouth, and then curling a finger to tease at the edge of Dick's hole. Just a slight pressure. A question. A test to see if Dick would accept it, and Dick gasped out, “Yes! Use your mouth.”

Jason pressed his hand against Dick’s stomach, pushing him backward, and Dick let himself fall onto the bed, legs spread open to allow Jason to settle again between his thighs. This time, he trailed wet kisses down the side of Dick’s cock, down further to take his balls into his mouth, rolling them around with his tongue, before moving down even further. He tongued at Dick’s taint, and the pressure against his prostate had Dick arching and curling in bliss, and then he felt a warm probing as Jason began to lick and thrust at his entrance.

“Oh Helios, yes. Don’t stop,” Dick cried as Jason began to pump his cock with his hand, at the same time feeling the warm wetness of Jason’s tongue fill and swirl in his hole. He couldn’t last. Dick felt the tension within himself building, he was writhing with each wave of pleasure, his hips thrusting upward into Jason’s hand, and then he was clenching and spasming. Crying aloud and spending himself over his belly as Jason squeezed and jacked his cock, milking him for all he was worth.

He hauled Jason up beside him as the ecstacy cleared and pressed their mouths together again, tasting the salt of himself in his mouth. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of Jason’s sweats to push them down past his thighs, until Jason kicked them off the rest of the way.

“That was incredible,” Dick breathed. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything.” He palmed Jason’s cock, still fully engorged and wanting. It felt heavy and thick and Dick could imagine it inside him. Filling him up. Feeling the pulse of Jason within him. Or he could imagine Jason's glorious thighs thrown over Dick's shoulders as he thrust into Jason, watching his face contort in pleasure. He wanted all those things, but Jason seemed hesitant, not responding immediately.

Maybe it was too soon for that, but Dick still wanted to return the favor. He scooted down, intending to take Jason into his mouth, when Jason caught his arm and pulled him back up.

"Dick, I just want…," Jason nuzzled their faces together, his cheeks a brighter red than just from mere arousal. He was nervous—maybe a little embarrassed—but he brushed his lips close. He wanted to be _ kissed_. 

Dick smiled, because he would wholeheartedly oblige that. He leaned in and captured Jason's mouth, and Jason moaned in response. He put his hand atop Dick's, still pressed over his hardened member, and thrust his hips forward, whimpering with the pressure and heat. Whatever his hesitancy, he was comfortable with this, and above everything Dick just wanted him to feel good.

The hot wetness of Dick's spend still pooled over his stomach, and Dick swiped his hand over it, slicking it through his fingers and then using the slide of it to grip Jason's cock. He pumped him, squeezing a little tighter at the glans, stroking slowly in a steady rhythm all while he swallowed each and every one of Jason's muffled groans of pleasure in a perpetual kiss.

He probed deep into his mouth with his tongue, pulled back and teased at Jason's bottom lip with his teeth, and then dove back in again. Dick increased the speed of his strokes before slowing down, and Jason gasped and quivered as Dick repeated the movements. Jason ran his hands through Dick's hair, gripping the back of his head as he returned each kiss with fervor. Another hand was kneading his buttocks again, pulling him closer and Dick could feel Jason was nearing the precipice of climax. He curled a leg forward, entangling himself with Dick as he finally let out a shuddering gasp. Dick slowed his motions as Jason released himself, coating his hand in more hot spend.

They stayed entwined, wrapped in each other's warmth, touching their foreheads together as Jason caught his breath.

Dick kissed him softly again, and after a few minutes, Jason spoke. 

"Sorry, I just haven't ever done more than that. Not with anyone. Not since…," he trailed off, voice uncertain, some kind of dark emotion clouding his eyes. 

Dick filled in the blanks. _ Not since before he died. _

Which meant this was probably new for him. Except he clearly had some experience, given how he'd expertly brought Dick to completion, but that brought up an uncomfortable question about what had happened _ before_. 

However, Dick put that thought aside for now, because Jason was watching him for a reaction.

"It's okay," Dick smiled reassuringly. "Whatever you want. Whatever feels right."

Jason let out a sigh, the tension in his face cleared, and he brushed his fingers across Dick's cheek before they kissed again. 

Dick laced their fingers together, closing the space between their hands, reaching to close the gap between their hearts.

_~~~~~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos would be much appreciated!


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